#I’m not trying to say that your not allowed to struggle with spelling of your not dyslexic but there’s so much more to it then that

[blueprintfish]

Oh, don’t worry I suck at spelling too, I mean everyone is a little dyslexic- *sound of gunshot*

[xxblairexxss]

Duty

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x pregnant!reader

Theme : Angst / fluff

It reached 3.4k before I could even do the climax so I’m just gonna drop this one first or else I’m gonna rush the next part and ended up ruining everything.

Google result! Let’s hope this is accurate. I spent hours on website trying to find this. PROM is a shorten for premature rupture of membranes!

Requested!

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Charles was ecstatically happy to start the new season with the brightest hope because of how he ended the previous one as the second place in the World Driver Championship, even more elated when this was his first time starting the new season as a new father-to-be but it was undeniable that Charles had been struggling since the first race.

He seemed to be developed a new trait as well as upgraded some of his old ones ever since your pregnancy. Your first pregnancy. He had asked you to stop accompanying him to races which resulted to a fight, and you claimed that he didn’t need your support anymore. He eventually gave in but with conditions where you needed to stay by his side all the time or if he was occupied, he would force Joris to stay with you. When you got into your second trimester, he had again, asked you to to stop attending the races but you still wanted to, so he gave in again but only allowed you to attend the qualifying and race day so you started missing his practice day, which caused the media to question about your absence and Charles had to reassure everyone how you had been doing fine, but he had to be stricter on you to avoid any unwanted accidents. When you entered your third trimester, he didn’t allow you to attend any of the races at all and this time, he didn’t give in, no matter what.

Even so, he never allowed you to be left alone. You would either be at his parent’s house, your parents’ house, or he would bring either one to your house.

No matter how much you reassured him.

“Charles, can I just stay here?” Your voice trailed off, already feeling gloomy from what he was gonna say. You were sitting on the bed, looking at your husband going in and out of the room packing his stuffs before his flight in a few hours.

“What was it, baby?” He walked back into the room, placing one of his perfume into the small luggage bag and cocked his brow, waiting for you to repeat what he had missed.

“I don’t want to go to my parents house this weekend.”

He heaved a sigh of defeat and it made you regret for bringing up the topic. “You know I’m doing this for your safety, right? Honey, I won’t be here for a week, that’s long enough. What if something happened?”

“I know but I’m not due for another month.”

He took your hand in his, thumb softly grazing on your knuckles. “You are already 35 weeks. I can’t take the risk of leaving you alone. The doctor told us you need to be careful as they suspected PROM, no?”

“But–“ You jutted your bottom lips, looking away when your husband tilted his head away, eyes squeezing shut when you tried to argue even more.

“But what, honey? Go on, I’m listening.”

“Y/F/N wanted to come over with her little girls this weekend. I just wanted to do a little movie night and bake some cookies with them.” You felt Charles moved his shirts that you were folding in front of you away and skittered closer, seeing how you refused to look at him now.

“Can I see your pretty face?”

He beamed, feeling his heart caught the eternity’s mist as you looked up to him with teary eyes. “My crybaby.” He had realised since you entered your second trimester, your hormones seemed to be ramped up and you had been in a constant mood swings and crying spells, crying at almost everything. He had told his mom, worried about it as he wasn’t sure why. Even after he talked to you a lot about it and she said it was normal, but it sure took him a while to get used to it.

“Charles..” You hit on his arm and he chuckled.

“Alright, alright. Just this one time, okay? Make sure to pick up my call and let me know if it hurts anywhere.”

“I love you!” You exclaimed and threw your arms around his waist, head leaning against his chest.

“I’m serious, Y/N. Let me know if anything happens. Don’t make me regret my decision. Promise?”

“Promise!”

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Few days passed, Charles got the podium for the second time in a row and you had been eagerly waiting for him to walk through the door. It was a shame you weren’t there to hug him as soon as he hopped off the fast car but he’d made sure you didn’t feel left alone as he called you right after, even mentioned you and his unborn daughter in his interviews.

“Congratulations! Two podiums in a row!” You threw you arms in the air and hopped, stopping when Charles held your waist.

“Careful, love.” He brushed his lips on your forehead, letting it linger against your skin. “I missed you, and you too, little one.” He bended down and stroked on your middle.

“I wanted to bake you muffins last night but I fell asleep because your child won’t stop kicking me.”

He placed his arm around waist, pulling you close as much as he could, another hand on the side of your belly. “It’s okay, I don’t mind. We can bake muffins together now that I’m home?”

“Are you tired?”

He pulled a funny expression and nodded impatiently. “I am worn out, baby. Total knocked out.”

“Can you buy me the matcha ice cream?”

“I bought you three tubs before I left, didn’t I?”

“I–“ You were going to tell him your excuse but ended up sucking your lips into a thin line, pulling away to pinch your husband on his arm. “Don’t look at me like that! I’m gonna cry!”

He winced and recoiled, hand leaving your belly to stroke on his waist where you just pinched. “Ow! What did I do?”

“You looked at me as if it was impossible for someone to finish three tubs of ice cream in one week! See? You are doing it again! I hate you.”

“What do you want me to do?” His mouth widen in disbelief and brought his palm up to cover his eyes. “Is this okay now?”

“Better.” You giggled and went back hugging his waist. You definitely missed hugging him without your belling getting in the way but it won’t be that long now. “Can you still get me the ice cream?”

“Of course, love. I’ll be right back.”

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Charles has been home for a week and day by day, you could see how he got progressively quite. He didn’t ignore you, didn’t raise his voice at you, he never did. He was still the husband that you wished every woman would have but he had been looking as if he was keeping a lot to himself.

“Charles?” You heard him hummed in response, his face is buried against your neck, his arm draped on your belly as you played with his hair. “Are you okay?”

“Why did you ask?”

“I feel like you are worrying about something. Talk to me, honey. What’s wrong?” He went silenced, his hand left your belly as he pulled away.

“I don’t know, Y/N. I’m just scared? No– worried. No– I’m not sure. Probably both.”

You placed your under your round middle as you turned, scooted facing your husband who looked like he was in a deep dejection. “Was it because of this weekend?”

“Yeah. I just can’t afford to disappoint them again, love.”

“How do you know you were gonna disappoint them?” You placed your hand on his neck, thumb brushing against his stubble. “Hm?”

“I don’t know. I just feel like it? It’s not the first time, honey.”

“Don’t be too harsh on yourself. It’s not even the race day yet but you are already assuming the worst. Give yourself a chance to prove yourself. I know my husband very well and I know he can ace everything thrown in his face.”

His lips turned into an upwards curve as he bended down to kiss your belly, hand patted on the side of it. “Mommy really knows how to cheer daddy up, doesn’t she? How I wish you could come too, baby.”

“We can come! Right, baby?” You replied, your hand strokes on the other side of your middle, voice filled with a hint of hope.

“No. I didn’t actually mean it, honey. It was hypothetical.” He straighten his body, and you saw the frown he always made whenever you told him you wanted to come to any races.

“But I really want to go..”

“You know what my answer will be, don’t you? I’m not gonna change it this time, Y/N.”

“This could be my last time attending your race before she comes. I don’t want to stay in the house. It’s getting boring and I have nothing to do.” You had been waiting for him to look at you as perhaps, there could be a tiny expectation where he would change his mind but he didn’t. “You’ll never understand.” You pulled your hand away, standing up to leave the living room.

“Baby,” He called out and of course, he got ignored. He knew it and wasn’t even expecting for you to reply. “Hear me out first. Y/N–“ You slammed the door and locked it before he could pushed it back. “Okay, locking the door is not it, honey.” He knocked and waited, but he didn’t hear anything. “Y/N, open the door.” Nothing. “Baby, please.” Still nothing. “Open the door or I’m gonna eat your ice cream. I’m serious.”

“You are mean.” He bit his lips, trying to hold his smile when you opened the door a second after, glaring at him with your arms folded.

“Oh? I’m the mean one when you just slammed the door and locked your husband out of the room? Baby, can you at least hear what I was gonna say?”

“I know what you’re gonna say. You don’t have to say it to my face.” You rolled your eyes and walked back to the bed.

“I thought you know how to read my mind. I was gonna ask you to be my date this Sunday but I think I got rejected.” He was going to stand up, pretending to be walking away but you gripped on his arm.

“Oh my god! Really? Can I really go to the race?”

“Last one before our little girl arrives.”

He gave in, yet again.

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You had been feeling cramps ever since the weekend arrived. Your back had been hurting since your third trimester but it hurt even more these days, especially when you laid down. You could barely fall asleep even when you tried to sleep sitting against the headboard so you always woke up feeling all worn out which caused you to lose appetite. Even your head hurt due to the lack of sleep.

Charles had realised you were somewhat different but every time he asked you, you would just brush it off, saying that it was normal for pregnant women to feel like this nearly the end of the pregnancy. He realised you didn’t ask him to buy anything that you craved for which you used to every single day. You had been really quite. You only took a bite out of your meal only when he caught you but every time he asked if you were fine, you would always say yes, telling him to stop worrying. He had been contemplating if he could skip practice day, in any way possible but you got so mad at him for “being silly”.

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You were sitting in front of your dressing table, contemplating about which scent you should go with when your belly went tight, as if going through another cramp and it made you winced in pain. Your body slightly bended towards your middle.

“Honey? Are you done?”

“Y– yeah, I’m almost done.”

“Hey.” Charles peeked his head and strode to where you were sitting, crouching down so he could see your face. “I know I’ve been asking you this for like the million times but are you really fine? You are worrying me, love. You don’t have to come if you are not feeling well.”

“I am fine! I am just excited. I promise.”

His hand went to your round belly and softly rubbed on it. “I saw your face scrunched up earlier. Is she giving you a hard time?”

“She just has been kicking non stop. She’s probably too excited to see his daddy wins the race.” You placed your hand on his and cackled.

“Oh, I’m not sure about that, baby.”

“You can, honey! We’ll be rooting for you!”

“If that’s what my girls wished for then I guess I could make it comes true. P5 to P1 doesn’t sound hard, does it? We need to go. Are you all set?” He stood up straight and pinched on your cheek. “You look beautiful, baby.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile from the compliments. “Liar. Can you help me up?” You stretched out your arms for him to pull you up.

“Ready? 1, 2, 3!” His body was slightly slanted to give you enough space when you stood up. “I’m not lying. My wife is so beautiful I almost mistook her as an angel.”

“Whatever.”

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They were expecting rain to come since it had been raining during both practice and qualifying round but it felt like the sun was just a hand fist away from your head the moment you stepped out of the car. The media had to make it worse since this was your first appearance in the paddock in your last semester where you looked undeniably pregnant now. They had to block your way when you just wanted to sit down as fast as you can, even after Charles had rejected every request. His arm never left your waist. He even shook his head to people who asked to interview him regarding the race, telling them that he would come back after he sent you to the Ferrari’s hospitality.

“Here’s your drink. Oh, and I also got you some chocolates because it’s hot and you always needed something sweet. Some vitamins which I’m not sure if you ever need them but, you know, just in case. And– “

“Charles, I’m fine. Go and do your duty as a driver, honey.” You held his hand that was halted in the air as he was searching for something else he could give you.

“Are you sure? You were trembling earlier, Y/N.”

“It was just the sun. I’m fine now. See?” You cupped his cheeks and giggled when he shivered, feeling your cold hands against his skin. “Go! Don’t make them wait.”

“I’ll come back to you before I have to get into the car. Don’t be in the garage. Stay in here. It’s more comfortable, alright? I love you.” He leaned in to kiss you and pecked on your shirt covered belly. “And you too, little one. Please be nice on mommy.”

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You were lying through your teeth but Charles didn’t catch any of it. He was probably too nervous for the race as he could usually read you like an open book. Your cramps had been going on recurrently, your belly is hard to touch and it felt heavier. The steps taken from your car to the paddock made you out of breath, your legs were shaking from having to walk through the cramps but your husband knew nothing about any of it. You felt like the weather and the tension from earlier might had something to do with it. You weren’t going to tell him because he had enough on his plate and though you knew he didn’t mind it at all, you didn’t want him to do anything hasty on the race day. He had told you multiple times how he could skip the practice and even the qualifying round if you just told him something was wrong and if he knew about what you had been feeling these past few days, he wouldn’t even be attending this race and you couldn’t afford that. He was a Ferrari driver before he was your husband. This should be his priority, not you. It’s Monaco, he had always been the centre in every Monaco GP, what would the fans say if he, the only Monegasque in the grid was missing on the important day.

You weren’t sure why you had been feeling this way. Your due date was 3 weeks away. That was surely long enough. You even googled if it was possible for women to get Braxton hicks in their 37 weeks into the pregnancy but most of the answers sent you to shiver that you refused to read in detail and tried to hold it off, until the race, at the very least.

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Charles couldn’t see you before he got into the car. He had been pushing his schedule back when he chose to stay with you in the hospitality earlier so he had no more gap before he race. He was now in the grid walk, fireproofs suit on as he was putting on the balaclava, the white-coloured open mask while one of his race assistant, Xavi was holding his helmet. “Where’s Joris?”

“He’s there. Joris!”

Joris came running from the side of the grid and Charles turned to look at him. “Please keep an eye on Y/N for me. I have a feeling she’s not telling me something.”

“Got it. You don’t have to worry about her.”

“If, God forbid, something happened to her during the race, please let me know. At any time of the race.” He then took the helmet from Xavi and gripped on Joris’s shoulder as he was about to walk away. “Promise me, Joris. Let me know. No matter what position I am.”

“Nothing will happen to her, Charles. I’ll be by her side. Just focus on your race.”

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“Ow..” You winced, steps came to a halt as you placed your hand on the wall to hold yourself. The cramp became more and more intense you could barely stand up any longer than 5 minutes. Even a walk to the bathroom took you long enough as you had to keep on stopping or your legs would just give away. “Not too hard, baby..”

“Y/N, you okay?” Joris came and your face instantly became more at ease to hide the pain.

“I’m fine, Joris. I just feel a little hot.” He offered you a hand and as soon as you pulled your hand from the wall, your whole body became wobbly and Joris immediately caught you in his arms.

“Woah, woah, slow down. Let’s walk you back to the lounge area, alright? Just lean on me.”

You felt a chill as you started sweating abnormally though you were in an air-conditioned area. Soon as you took a step forward, everything became a blur and you lost control of yourself, giving in completely.

“Y/N!” You felt Joris’s body against yours as you fell to the ground. Your eyes were heavy that it felt like it required a huge amount of energy to force it opened and you let yourself capiltulated to the darkness.

Joris immediately called for a medic and he was told that you needed to be taken to the emergency room right away, making him even more overwrought as it sounded more serious than he thought. “Can you wait until I informed her husband first?”

“Sir, we are suspecting internal emergency. We can’t wait. Leave us her emergency contact number and we’ll call them to direct to the hospital.”

Internal emergency. Joris could barely think straight and became more perturbed. One because Charles had given him the responsibility to look over you and he thought it was just his friend being overprotective. Second because you had been more like a family, like a little sister to him so he didn’t want anything bad happened to you. He had given Charles’s parent a call, telling Pascale to call your parents as well before he barged into the garage. He couldn’t cross the pit lane due to safety precaution but the group of people who had direct access to the drivers’ radio were all sitting across the pit lane. He ended up grabbing a random engineer to help him passed the words. “Tell them to inform Charles that his wife had been brought to the emergency room.”

He then saw the engineer walked and whispered to the person in charge and felt a little relief because now all he had to do is wait for Charles so he could go to the hospital.

But he didn’t know none of his words were being conveyed.

“Charles,”

Silenced.

“Guys, I’m listening.”

“No, nothing. Just wanted to inform that we are sticking to plan A.”

“Copy that.”

Joris waited, and waited. He was so anxious he couldn’t even stand still. He saw Charles on the final turn and thought to himself that he was gonna came into the pit lane any second,

but he didn’t. His car passed the starting line again as he carried onto the next lap.

✧.* tags! @i83andrew @cltrlne @karmabyfernando @ohthemisssery @ru-kru @tastebaldwin @f1obessed @aundercover @love4lando @shinrjj

if your usernames were crossed meaning I can’t tag you 😭 let me know if you would like to be removed or added to the taglist! or if I missed anyone!

[littlelambscandyland]

Bunker Down

Yan!Platonic Daddy Stanford x Fem!Reader, Side Yan!Platonic Uncle Stanley x Fem!Reader

Warnings- Forced Age Regression, Kidnapping, Use of Daddy (Non-Sexual Obviously), Accidental Self Injury, Time shit I don’t understand, Implied spell casting induced age regression, Reader is implied to be 20,  Ford has blue eyes cause I fucking said so, not matching to the canon ending

Your eyes burned from your sleep. The bones in your body sore and unmoving. You were content on letting yourself rest, allowing yourself some form of recuperating. Want and need were two different things, however, and you found yourself crawling from your covers. With Dipper and Mable leaving just a week ago things are still struggling to get back on track.

Something caught your eye, or rather your feet, when you left your bed. The floor was oddly soft. Now that you think about it, so was the bed. The bed that most certainly wasn’t yours in a room that also was definitely not yours. Your eyes still burn, but your curiosity burns harder.

You stand up with caution and exhaustion. The door was easy to spot among the slightly bright room. It reminded you of the room you saw taped in the back of the first journal, but that couldn’t be the same room. No, that room was your nursery. The room Ford built just for you after your sudden appearance in his life. It did look like it though. Different yet the same.

A part of this situation made you sad. The remembrance of loss and odd deja vu feeling of the room decor made you uneasy. Not the best way to start the day for sure.

Your hand clasped the golden handle and immediately turning it, or trying to. The door knob didn’t turn. The door barely even shuddered when you panicked and slammed yourself against it. It was a chilling realization when you figured out the door wasn’t actually wooden, just painted. You found out when the cold metal dislocated your arm from the pressure.

Your cries of pain stirred something up because a red light blinked above the door lit up and washed over you. Nothing happens. Nothing comes to stop you from angrily banging on the door.

It lasted a while. Sitting on your knees scratching at it with wavering hope. You were tired, but it felt like it’d been so long.

Finally the door opened. Frantically your father, Ford, entered the room. For an old man he moved quickly. All those years running must’ve made him tough if nothing else. He threw you in his arms and rushed you back over to the bed while muttering to himself. He sat with you looking over your damaged arm and hands.

“F-Ford…” You called out to him wearily.

You’d never called him your dad. Not since he’d come back. Not since being alone for so long. You couldn’t bring yourself to rely on him. You couldn’t be his daughter, not when he doesn’t even seem to feel that you are either.

“Dad.” He says searching a bag full of bandages.

You take it back, maybe he did think you were his kid.

“Wha- Just what’s happening?” Your voice rang through the quiet room.

Ford stopped searching and the scuffling noises ended. He didn’t answer. Instead, he works on your hands. Torn flesh wrapped delicately in the bandages. Did you really scratch that hard?

You look up impatiently. “Ford-”

“Dad.” Ford says, wrapping the bandage tighter than needed.

“Fine- Fucking- Dad. What is going on?” You asked anxiously.

“It’s-” He stops. “Hold on one second this is going to hurt.”

He wraps his hand around your wrist and then places his other on the crook between your arm and neck. Ford tightens his hold slightly and pushes hard on your arm. A gasp and a scream leave your mouth as he pops your arm back into its proper place. He pulls you closer into himself and pets your head.

“C’mon, sweetie, it’s okay.” He coos at you. “Shhh-shhh… Daddy’s here.”

As the pain faded he continued to work on wrapping your arm.

“You didn’t answer my question…” You drew out.

“It’s complicated to explain.” Your father answers, finishing your arm. “Overall…” He trails. “I’m just trying to keep you safe. I missed so much and, and so did you.”

“So… Your solution was a concealed box?” You ask.

You couldn’t quite wrap your mind around what he was trying to prove. Why were you locked in? If this was to keep you safe why not lock things out? Your curiosity showed on your face. The slight shake in your hands giving way to your fear.

“I didn’t think you’d wake up so early… Or try to tear the door down. You can’t go acting all crazy like that, kiddo. Why do you think you’re hurt?” Ford says concern lining his scarred face.

“That doesn’t- Why aren’t you answering my questions!?” Your panic voice breaks through.

“I know! I know. I’m just trying to save you…” He sighs and grabs your arms lightly. Ford frowns as you try to pull away. “I just want to have my baby girl back… I think we both deserve that. Don’t you a princess?” He asks hopefully.

It makes sense, a bit, why he’d do this. Bill had thrown you threw a portal at such a young age. This portal threw you years in time. You grew up alone in a completely different time. You made it to your teenage years without anyone. You did it! And you were so proud of yourself. Then again you missed out on being a kid. You missed your father. You missed everything, but, then again, so did he.

These thoughts didn’t shadow your panic. All this made sense, in a way. The man's mind was most likely fractured from all he’s suffered through the years. What you didn’t understand was the nicknames, or the room, or, now that you’ve noticed, the clothes.

His mind may be broken, but how old did he think you were? How old did he want you to be?

You sighed. “Ford…”

“Dad.” He cut you off quickly. A panicked laugh followed after. “I’m your father. I should be treated like your father.” His words rush out.

“Okay, I get it. But you still aren’t really explaining anything to me! Like the clothes, the room, fuck, the-the door? What exactly are you hoping to gain and what exactly is the plan here?” You integrate the man.

Ford lifts you into his arms with ease. Your tense body seemingly makes no difference to him. Your face to face with him, his broken frames shadow some of the intensity in his eyes. Blue eyes darkened by age and trauma. Your heart pounds dangerously hard against your ribs. Eyes wide and panicked matching his tired and manic orbs.

Ford rests his head against yours, but doesn’t close his eyes. His intense gaze frightens you and you close yours tightly to avoid his own.

His voice comes out thick and heavy. “I know… It seems radical. I know, you’re scared.” Your father says, moving away, cupping your face in his large hands. “I just want us to be happy again,” He whispers desperately. “Is it that bad to want to see my baby grow up?” His voice breaks. “I know, I know it seems odd right now, but you’ll get used to it! You can be daddy’s little girl again! Wouldn’t that be nice? No more worries just you, me, and occasionally your Uncle Stan.” He finishes with a smile filled with hope and delusion.

“I think,” You say, trying to pull away. “You need to take some time to- to calm down… Everything that’s happened and after all that occurred Dipper and Mable had to go home. I get it your- your stressed, but I really don’t think you’re thinking straight. Y- Y’know?” You plead to him.

Ford says nothing. His grip tightens every time you try to wriggle out. You’d never felt afraid of him until now. The lack of natural light, the decoration, the words from his lips, all have you in a state of fear you've never experienced before. Which was saying something because you’ve been through some stuff.

His eyes harden and he’s suddenly standing with you in his arms. Ford walks out of the room and up a set of stairs. Were- were you in the basement? Surprising you a bit when you made it to the door at the top of the stairs you weren’t met with the inside of the shack rather you found yourselves in the hall between the two mens’ rooms. Confusion crosses your face.

“We added a separate entrance so it’d be more safe. On top of that it’s more discrete.” Ford smiles pridefully.

You try to leave the older man's grip again, hoping maybe you could find some comfort in being a few steps away from him. This hope dies quickly when he simply switches you to his other hip. How the hell is his 70 year old ass able to hold you for so long? Your fear boils over to anger as you try to push yourself out of his arms.

“Ford! Ford put me down!” You shout pushing as much as he pulled.

He wrestled with you all the way to the living room. His grip was tight enough to carry you even while you tried to fight.

“That is enough young lady!” He shouts and plops you down onto… Another lap? “I’ve had enough of this little tantrum. Now you're going to sit there and be good for Stan while I get you breakfast. Am I understood?”

Your heart stopped. Not even when you were little did he yell at you. You were always his “little angel”. You never got in trouble. It was startling to hear him angry at you.

“Don’t think you answered your old man there sweetheart.” Stan chimed in.

Realization hit you for a moment. Your father threw you straight onto your uncle's lap… And your uncle seemed completely fine with what was going on… Are you going crazy?

“Why- I - uh - I…” You trailed on in a stuttering line.

“C’mon I know you’re young, but spit it out will ya.” Stan says with faux irritation.

“What- What is wrong with the two of you?!” You shout in frustration.

You try your best to scramble off of Stan's lap. A fight you lost very quickly when the old man crushed you into a bear hug. Through your pleas of “let me go” and “why are you doing this” you were cooed and hushed at. You found that your uncle seemed to find some sort of humor in your “tantrum”. He shouted jokes to Ford about how much more difficult you were being all because of a little change. How you were so pitiful it was cute.

Your movements came to a halt when you heard your father clearing his throat. Stan makes another joke about how you’re really in trouble now. Your eyes water quickly and your breathing becomes erratic. Before Ford could even scold you for you “bad behavior” you were having a full blown panic attack.

The whole thing happened in a blur. Warm arms and a faint glowing light. You felt so much smaller so quickly. It’s like the world changed course. You were so angry and now you felt so much more dependent.

“Please… Daddy, I don- I don’t understan…” You sniffle out onto his shoulder.

Your arms wrap around him as tightly as his wrap around you. Your head felt so much fuzzier.

“Told ya’ this would be faster poindexter, then again didn’t think ya had it in ya’.” Stan says proudly from his chair.

You peek over your daddy's shoulder… What’d he mean by that? Aside from the fogginess you felt fine. What’d they do?

“It’s just till she gets used to things…” Ford says while rubbing his hands over your back.

“Sure it is,” Stan says. “Anything to get your little angel back huh?”

Your father rests his head on yours. “I already have her, she just needed a little help.”

[nicromancytarot]

WHAT DOES YOUR BODY WANT YOU TO KNOW

This is a general reading based on a collective of people. Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. If you don’t feel the pile resonates with you, don’t be scared to try another, if it still doesn’t feel right, that’s ok! Maybe our energies aren’t as connected and my readings are not for you.

I do these strictly for fun and educational purposes. I don’t change for these readings and I do not fake readings. I would tell you the cards I got but I pull like 20-30 cards each reading and that just slightly a strenuous task to write them all down lmao.

PICK A CARD READING

I asked my spirit guides to tell me what your body wants you to know right now. Pick a pile and find out what they had to say!

Pile 1 ———> Pile 2 ———> Pile 3

PILE 1

You guys seem to be having issues with your posture out of everything right now, perhaps you are on the taller side and have to lean down, or tilt your head down to see others, or perhaps it’s the complete opposite. I am seeing someone who is struggling with back problems, many of the cards in this spread are holding onto something which is attached to the ground, so you may have a walking stick, or constantly struggle with balance due to pain.

A few of you are sat at your computer for too long, you’re leaning over and messing up your posture. Any of you who are working at computers often, or maybe you’re a streamer or something, make sure to take care of your physical health first, and do hand/wrist exercises, as well as stretches.

Your body is telling you to rest, they’re saying to allow yourself to take a moment off and lean against the wall, or sit down and just let yourself be calmed by the weight of your body being lifted off your shoulders.

There could be a possibility that you need to get something checked out at the doctors, I’m seeing dizzy spells? If you get dizzy when you stand up, I would recommend looking into booking an appointment just to get it checked out, perhaps you will find a cure.

PILE 2

You guys seem to be dealing with a lot physically right now, I’m seeing that your body is begging you to take a break lmao, as if they are trying to tell you that a rest is needed for you to be able to achieve what you want to. I’m seeing a lot of issues, eyes, head, hands, and legs are the main ones for you my pile 2. I see that you are aware of these issues, but you are trying your best to ignore it, as if trying to tell yourself that they are not all so severe and that you are being dramatic, but it seems like you’re not.

I think you’re working hard on something now, and it’s taking a toll on your mental well-being, like if you’re an athlete and in need of working out constantly, it may affect you with the level of pain that you have to deal with due to the aftermath. The back of your legs might be in a lot of pain right now, for this I would recommend allowing yourself to rest up.

Cluster headaches or migraines? Try sitting in a completely blacked out room, only thing to light it will be a red light, and sleep. It’ll help, I promise.

There’s certain sounds that you’re listening to, which are messing with your head, your body is asking you to try some white or brown noise, possibly paired with some theta waves for reparation.

Get yourself outside to enjoy something sporty and fun, I’m heading baseball, basketball, tennis.

PILE 3

You guys are in need of some vitamin D, your body is begging you to get outside and enjoy the sun, you’re nearing summer so I would recommend working out to achieve your summer body goals. Your body is currently rejecting someone, if you constantly feel drained around a certain person, or possibly they’re giving you a headache, or making you sick, that person is who we are talking about. Your body would appreciate if you would let this person go, so you can feel the best once again.

I got the word salad… perhaps eat a salad, whether it’s for health or losing weight, your body is recommending eating better and healthier so you can be the most superior version of you.

Some of you could possibly have a leak or something in your house, there’s a chance that mould could be growing somewhere and it’s making you really tired and fatigued, I would 100% recommend looking into it, even if it’s not a physical thing you can see, it might be growing somewhere unexpected.

Some of you are going through something really rough right now, and you need to allow yourself to mourn this situation, but do not do anything to the point that you are crying yourself until you’re physically drained, make sure to give yourself breaks, and time.

[starringthesturniolos]

bite me (part 3)- matt sturniolo

part 1, part 2, part 3

summary: matt hates your guts but all of that changes when he finds out your his mate.

contains: vampire!matt x reader, highschool au! (18 years old), smut (not in this part)

a/n: a short chapter but the next ones a biggie. love yall and thank you so much for the support

——————————————————————————

when i wake up, i’m strapped to a bed frame. i struggle against the restraints but all that comes out of it is another dizzy spell.

“hey, your awake” i whip my head around to see two blue eyes staring back at me. fear shoots into my chest again, as i stare at matt’s brother, chris, in front of me. if matts not human, then i bet he’s not either.

“get away from me” my voice shakes and i gear my legs up to be ready to kick if necessary. “i know matt scared you pretty bad yesterday, but i promise, no ones going to hurt you here.” he comes and sits on the side of the bed, placing his hand on my knee gently

chris and i have only ever had one class together and it was in our sophomore year, but i always thought highly of him. he was nice and funny, unlike his brother. i may have even had a crush on him, if i had allowed myself to. the version of him i knew before, overides my fear of what he is and as he strokes my knee some of my fear goes away. but then all of a sudden, anger spikes within me that somehow doesn’t feel like my own. chris’ hand that was once comforting felt like a hot clothing iron on my skin. i wince and chris takes his hand off me immediately. instead, he looks towards the doorway apprehensively.

in the doorway, is none other than the matt sturniolo, and he looks furious.

fear and another feeling i can’t put my finger on fills me at the sight of him. i take a deep breath to try and calm myself down. at least he looks like he’s back to normal, no more red eyes and black veins.

“hey, she was freaking out, i was only trying to help. it’s not like that, i swear.” chris puts his arms up defending himself and trying to ease matts anger.

“whatever, get out” he snarls and i wince at the sound. chris scrambles out the room and matt marches up to me, sitting in the exact spot chris was moments before. unlike chris’ gentle touch, matt grabs my thigh roughly and possesively. even though the move was aggressive, when i feel his touch my body relaxes and my thighs clench together, hard. why is this turning me on and why did i stop panicking all of a sudden? his presence and touch should do nothing but scare me after everything he’s done. after everything i’ve seen.

“there you go” he coos darkly. “just relax, i have a lot of shit to tell you.” he says staring into my eyes intensely. the stare sends a heat surging through my body and i feel myself starting to get wet. if i could punch myself in the face i would. “get to it, make it quick.” i snip.

“have it your way then, i was gonna take it slow but i guess not.” he shrugs. “i’m a vampire and your my mate. thats why i went ape shit yesterday. thanks for listening to my ted talk.” he deadpans and cocks his head to the side.

even though it sounded like it was a joke, we both knew it wasn’t. my mind didn’t want to believe it, but my body knew it was true. matt is a vampire, and i am his mate.

“how? how am i your mate? whatever the fuck that is!” my voice raises in anger. did he pick me? maybe, to just to fuck around with me and tie me into all his weird vampire shit. did he really hate me that much?

“what, you think i know?!” he matches my angry tone before taking a breath, bringing his other hand up to rub his temple. “trust me, i have no idea sweetheart. if it were my choice, i’d have anyone but you. but for now, your stuck with me” he rolls his eyes. “and vice versa” he mutters.

his hand is still gripping my thigh and not a fiber of my being wants him to move it, even with all the arguing. and judging by the way he’s looking at me now, it looks like he’s stopping himself from doing more. i feel myself getting annoyed with myself for wanting him to do whatever he pleased and more.

“stop getting annoyed” he snaps. “its just the mating bond making us react to each other this way. nothing you can do about it” matt breathes in deeply and a shudder racks through him.

“what was that?” i ask weirded out by the almost animalistic behavior. “you just smell really good to me right now. i couldn’t help myself” he breathes out, eyes darkening slightly.

this man could really eat me alive if he wanted too. i shiver at the thought, but then my mind reels again. how did he know i was annoyed??.

“how did you know? that i was annoyed, i mean” you say bewildered by what being mated might entail. “now that you’re mine, i can feel your emotions almost like their my own. you can do it too, but humans aren’t as good at pin pointing it as we are.” he smirks like being a whole monster is something to be proud of and being human is childs play.

that would explain the random surge of anger earlier with chris. another wave of annoyance courses through me. he’s sooo possessive already. his words from yesterday rings through my head.

“because you’re mine.”

matts voice breaks through my silence. “but don’t worry this is all temporary” he smiles to himself. “i know a girl, and im pretty sure she can get rid of this” he gestures between the both of us. i can’t help the smile that rips through me at the good news.

“then what are we waiting for” i say impatiently.

@bbernard-03

@sturnthepot

@hoeformatt

@sturtriple16

@faygo-frog

@sturniol0s

@katie-tibo

@cindylcuwho

@mattslolita

[lizsgraveyard]

Detention : S.Shinazugawa (+18)

Author’s note: Reblogging is allowed but please do not post anywhere else without permission, I saw someone else stealing fics from demon slayer and posting it somewhere else

Author - Lizsgraveyard

Summary: What’s the best way to spend your Friday night? With your teacher in detention, who you just so happen to have feelings for.

Pairing- teacher. Sanemi x f!reader

Warnings: smut 18+, Jealous Sanemi, spanking, fingering, oral, student-teacher (this takes place in a college AU)

note: I posted this originally on me Ao3 but finally decided to post it here. Side note: I’m not very good at smut, so I apologize. Not spell checked. I very much love math teacher Sanemi.

———————

I sighed as I walked into my next class. My eyes struggled to stay open. I mentally kicked myself for leaving my English essay until the last minute, resulting in only four hours of sleep. Fortunately it was my last class of the day, and the last day before the weekend. But unfortunately it was math. My worst nightmare. I barely skimmed by in high school, but it’s even worse in college. But there is one positive thing about the class, the professor. 

The first day he walked into the classroom I could help but fall for him. He looked to be around 25. With his white hair and his shirt unbuttoned revealing his built body, it was a bit of a distraction. 

But I can’t help but to push these thoughts aside. He is a professor and I am a student, I couldn’t risk him getting fired. Also, he seems to be close with our other professor, Kocho.

I entered the classroom, walking to my usual seat in the back of the classroom. As I was walking though, I could shake the feeling of a pair of eyes watching my every movement.

I sat down at my seat. Class began as soon as I did. I pulled out a notebook and began jotting down notes as Professor Shinazugawa began to explain new equations from the unit we started just recently. Just listening to his voice is enough to distract me. What is wrong with me? I let the very existence of this man take over my thoughts.

Those thoughts were interrupted by a note landing on my notebook. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. I looked up to my right and saw my friend Akira, who was not in his usual seat. He was looking ahead, to not look suspicious. I rolled my eyes and picked up the note and read it discreetly.

“Having a party tonight, wanna come?”

I rolled my eyes. And leaned over to whisper, “Couldn’t you have asked me before class or waited until it was over?” If Shinazugawa caught him passing notes, I would hate to see what would happen to him. I mean, he threw a student out a window for saying math was useless.

“What are you worrying about, we’re in the back of the class, he’s not gonna notice,” He whispered back. 

“While that might be true, it’s a risk I’m not willing to take, you know I’m not doing so hot in his class, it wouldn’t make it look any better if he caught me talking during the middle of his lecture.”

I’m not trying to get him to hate me more than he already does. Did I mention that, I’m probably his least favorite student. 

“Let’s just pay attention Akira before we get into trouble,” I told him sternly.

“Come on (Y/n),” he began begging like a child.

I shook my head no and started writing down notes.

“(Y/n) please?”

“No, Akira.”

“(Y/n)!”

“Akira, I said-“

“Hehe, that wasn’t me,” Akira said sheepishly.

I could feel my stomach drop and my heart beating out of my chest. I slowly looked to the front of the room and saw him glaring at me. I made a mental note to clobber Akira later but that is the least of my worries right now. I am in so much trouble right now.

“If you like to talk during my lecture, then I hope you will like sitting through detention, after class!”

 He went back to his lecture, not even sparing another minute on the matter. Which I’m thankful for. Usually he will scream you out, sometimes it takes up the entire class time. But still, I did get in trouble in front of everyone.

I slumped back in my chair, my face burning from embarrassment. I glanced over at Akira, who gave me a sheepish smile. I glared at him and turned my attention back to the lecture. The least I can do is to get back to work, as I was doing before. This time without a certain someone yapping in my ear.

What’s the worst that can happen? Maybe he’ll just yell at me. Maybe he won’t throw me out a window. Or maybe something else can happen.

——————

The last bell of the day finally rang. I would be more excited, but I have to stay behind while everyone else gets to go home for the day. There goes my plans for sleeping as soon as I get home. I groaned silently as I started packing up my things so I could move to the front of the classroom. 

Before I got very far though I was stopped by Akira. Who still had the same sheepish smile on his face.

“Sorry about that Y/n, I was just trying to prove you wrong, guess you were right,” he apologized, “Are you still gonna come to my party?”

”I’ll think about it.”

He smiled before hugging me. He let go and waved me goodbye, mouthing ‘good luck’ as he left the classroom. I continued my way towards the front of the class and sat in one of the seats. I took out the math homework he had assigned for today and started working on it. Pulling out the notes to help me. I read over my notes trying to do the problems the best that I could, but I didn’t seem to help in any sort of way possible. 

Suddenly I felt someone standing behind me, looking at me failing miserably to solve just one problem on the worksheet. I turned my head around slightly and saw my professor looming over me, it was a little intimidating.

“We went over that formula, when you were disrupting my class,” he sighed, taking a seat next to me, “Do you want to tell me exactly why you decided to ignore my lecture to talk to a boy?”

“I-I wasn’t talking to him, I mean I was, b-but he spoke to m-me first,” I rambled on. I must look like I was trying to come up with an excuse right now, but it doesn’t help that he’s sitting so close to me.

”And you let him continue talking to you.” Why did it sound like he was jealous? No, he couldn’t be. I’m sure he’s seen Akira and I talking after class and outside of it. We were just friends and nothing more.

”Believe me sir, I was trying to get him to stop but he wouldn’t listen to me.”

He tensed up after I called him sir but immediately composed himself. Why was he acting like this? I didn’t want to offend him in any way, and sir was very polite.

”There are other guys you can talk to besides him you know,” he grumbled a little bit.

My mind went blank as I stared at the worksheet. Maybe I’m just reading too much into it. That tends to happen when you have a crush on people. All kinds of thoughts ran through my head at that moment.

Did he not approve of Akira?

Did he know something about Akira that I don’t?

Was he referring to himself when he said that?

Am I just an actual idiot for actually thinking these things?

I decided to ask him about it, “What do you mean professor, who would you suggest I talk to then?”

He smirked at me a little bit, causing a blush to spread across my face.

”I think you’re looking at him, darling.”

I was at a loss for words. This isn’t really happening. 

He leaned in closer to my face, our lips just inches apart, but he hadn’t connected them yet. He just stayed in that position for a moment. Not moving an inch closer. I wanted to beg for him to just close the gap.

”One thing, don’t call me professor, I want to use my name,” he said, “Because it’s what you’ll be screaming for the next two hours.”

“W-what?”

He closed the remaining space between us, slipping his tongue in while my mouth was open because of shock. I let out a soft moan as his tongue explored my mouth. I soon snapped out of my daze and placed my hands on the back of his head and pulled myself closer to him. His lips left mine and I felt him nip at my neck. I let out a surprised gasp as he did so. He pulled away, satisfied with the hickey he left.

“Now darling before we do anything, I still have to punish you,” he huskily. I stared at him in confusion. I felt him lift me up and bend me over his knee, pulling my skirt up, revealing my white lace panties. He ran his hand over my ass before giving it a harsh slap. I yelped, it hurt, but in a good way.

”Let’s see, I caught you talking five times and there were two of you talking, so how about I ten, don’t you agree darling?” He asked.

I nodded my head. “You better speak before I double that.”

“Yes, Sanemi,” I replied to him. He smiles, before running hand over my ass again before saying, “Count with me.”

Slap

“One!”

Slap

”Two!”

Slap

“Three!” I moaned out.

I heard him chuckling, “are you enjoying this?”

”Yes,” I answered sheepishly.

He continued on with the punishment. Each of his slaps, each getting harsher as he made way to ten. I could feel my panties drenched afterwards. I felt him grope me before sitting me back up in his lap, leaving a kiss on my shoulder. Without him asking, I stripped down my underwear down my legs.

”Eager are we?” He asked and I nodded my head. He slipped his hand between my legs and into my folds. I moaned a little as he did so. His fingers found their way to my clit and he started rubbing it in circles. I whimpered, my hips bucking at the contact. I was wishing for more than just that. “What do you want darling?”

“Your fingers,” I begged him.

I felt his fingers trail down into my folds. He inserted two fingers, thrusting them at slow pace. I started bucking my hips again to meet with his fingers. He groaned behind me and wrapped an arm around my waist to keep me from moving. I felt something poke me from below, my face grew more red than I already was. I felt him add another finger as he quickened his pace a little bit. 

I let out a loud mewl as I felt a familiar knot starting to form. I felt him add another finger as he quickened pace. I was so close to my climax. But before I could feel my release, he removed his fingers. I let out a whine at the loss of contact, and the fact that I was so close to my release. 

“Darling, what did I say I wanted to hear from you?” He asked, letting his thumb rub my nub at a slow pace, “I want to hear you scream my name, don’t hold anything back, okay.”

“Alright,” I replied. He slowly added his fingers back, keeping his thumb on my nub. He was pumping his fingers at a slow pace.

“Sanemi, please go faster,” I begged him. He did as I asked and started pumping his fingers at a faster pace than he was going before. I felt him nipping and kissing my neck. I continued letting out loud moans, his pace kept getting quicker.

I finally felt that knot in my stomach again, “Sanemi, I’m gonna come!” I moaned loudly. He quickened his pace, rubbing my clit faster as well. I kept letting out loud mewls, until the knot finally came undone.

“Sanemi!” I screamed as my high came. Short quick breaths came out of my mouth. I turned to kiss him on the lips.  I pulled away and got off his lap to start unbuckling his pants. He grabbed my hand away, stopping me from what I was about to do. He continued on, unzipping his and pulling them down to his knees with his boxers. Stared at the size of it it was big but not too big, exactly what I imagined it would be.

“As much as I would love to see your mouth around my cock, we can’t stay in here forever, your detention is almost up,” he said. I moaned at the thought of it. He spit into his hand and stroked his member before lifting me, pulling up my skirt, and slowly inserting it. I winced a little bit and dug my head into his shoulder. He stopped and asked, “Are you okay, do you want me to continue?”

I nodded, “Yeah just don’t go too fast please.” He continued sitting me down on his cock slowly. I bit into his shoulder and he groaned softly. He lifted up his hips and slowly thrusted into me. 

It took a little bit before the pain turned into pleasure and I moaned when he thrusted into one last time. “You can go a little faster.” He didn’t waste any time as he picked up his pace, bouncing me on top of him as he did so. He lifted up my shirt and bra and started sucking at my nipples. I let out loud moans, if anyone were to walk by, they would know exactly what was going on. But thankfully, all the students are usually at home and the teachers are in the teachers lounge, which is on the other side of the building. 

“Do I make you feel good?” He asked.

“Yes!” I said loudly.

“I wouldn’t compare to anyone else? No boy would ever make you feel this way?” His thrusts started getting faster and harder. 

“No Sanemi, you can only make me feel this way.”

“Good, because I better not see you around anyone else. You’re mine.”

I felt that familiar feeling come back, and I can tell he knew too. He picked me up and sat me on the desk, so he could thrust into me even harder. Endless moans left my mouth.

“Come for me darling,” he said, “Don’t hold anything back, show me how good of a girl you are.”

I threw my head back and screamed his name as I came. He came shortly after me, cumming deep inside of me. Thank god I was on the pill. He leaned down and placed one last kiss on my lips before sliding my panties back up. He picked up a piece of paper and scribbled something down and handed it to me before pulling up his pants. 

“Have fun at your party, no boys,” he said sternly.

“Yes Sanemi,” I said before standing up, grabbing my stuff, and waved at him one last time before exiting the classroom.

I looked down at what he wrote down.

“Call me later tonight.” He wrote down along with his phone number.

Maybe I won’t beat up Akira after all.

[azulsluver]

I have so many questions about the twst bully, but I’m currently interested in is a hypothetical with vil and his UM, so i hope you don’t mind me asking lol

would he like curse reader if they pissed him bad enough? Like reader can’t move but they’re aware of what’s going around them. (basically locked-in syndrome)

Ahh, unique magic being used for evil yess.. rubs hands🙏🏼

tw/cw: bully!character, forced paralyzation, implied dubcon kissing, physical abuse.

Using Fairest One Of All is a dangerous thing to even consider casting on. Personally, Vil can easily be calmed when you’re tied and gagged, if you’re the root to his irritations he’s going to prove you wrong if your whole plan was to upset him.

You have to have done something truly horrible to set him off. Like trying to degrade him when he’s vulnerable in front of you. What you think of him matter a lot, and before all of that you have to gain his trust to even get him in that position. Breaking it is like a wake up call, but he’s not exactly there when he’s throwing things around the room.

So when he does use his signature spell on you he’s rather do something that allows you to meet the humiliating criteria. But paralyzing you doesn’t sound that bad. You can talk, you can feel his hands around you, you can still see that perfect face of his staring you down like dirt. He wants a lot to be done, but he can’t get ahead of himself just because you’re so liable.

Willingly, or saying it with teary eyes. Tell him how amazing he is, that’s right, sing him a lovely tune of how you can’t breathe without your queen. All the jazz to get you flustered and angry, if you really prioritize your dignity you would do it quick yet slow enough for him to bask in it. Maybe you’ll think twice before pissing him off.

One of his favorite things to do is make you do things more intimate. Let him hold you, caress you, lay your head on his thighs while kneeling on the floor, it’s a way to get you close to him if you want to escape that horrible magic of his. But it’s a reason for him to have you do it to satisfy his desire to touch. Vil is big on wanting you to do things that benefit him. Your discomfort is no care to him, all that matters is are you going to follow orders or should he make you beg for freedom? He’s not opposed to either, he enjoys seeing you struggle to swallow the bitter medicine that’ll help you sleep for the night. We can always try tomorrow.

Exploring many ways Vil can use his magic, you can’t open your mouth unless you kiss him back. Paralyzing your body until you genuinely’ tell him how sorry you are, if you play the long game he’ll let you sit in your own filth. Taking away your sight, having to rely on him and play a guessing game to get it back. Games are fun, but if he’s being mean and cheating the whole time it isn’t.

Luckily, Vil doesn’t often use his unique magic, it drains him a lot, so it’s like a once in a red moon.

[hillbillyoracle]

How to Have Better Conversations

I’m writing this at the request of my partner. She shared she’s really been struggling with making conversation more than usual lately. I shared some thoughts on how I navigate conversations she found useful and asked if I’d be willing to make a resource or write more about it. This is not meant to be a definitive expert guide, it’s built from my observations and experiences as someone who is autistic and has to navigate a lot of social situations completely manually. This is how I break down the individual components of conversation.

When I spelled this all out, one of her takeaways was that conversations actually involve a lot of microdecisions and that’s why they can be so tiring. And I think that’s totally correct. But I think it’s also why some people can thrive with them because it’s actually a lot of difficult decisions that are tricky to pull off well so when you can and do, there’s a real sense of accomplishment that can make talking more appealing.

I have a feeling this post will be overcomplicated and convoluted to a lot of folks but maybe there’s a handful of folks for whom it is helpful. Take what works, leave the rest. Summary at the end.

Types of Conversation

Topics of conversation are decently important in my experience. They ultimately let you know where the conversation will go - whether it’s likely to end in a dead end, what sorts of things it will allow you to learn about the person you’re discussing with. In my experience, just about all conversation topics fall into one of four camps.

While I talk about Best Use and Don’t Use here - most conversation in the following topics will fall somewhere in-between. They’re just sign posts, not rules.

Me

The focus is on you. Me topics are ultimately about telling a story about yourself with some amount of conscious intent.

Best Use

The best use of this is setting expectations and conveying preferences. This allows your talking about yourself to serve a purpose that ultimately assists the other person in knowing how to understand and interact with you best without necessarily demanding certain treatment front. They might change or not change how they interact with you and this can show how responsive you might expect them to be.

Examples:

“I’m a writer so I don’t work 9-5. If I reply at odd times, that’s probably what’s going on.”

“One of my favorite ways to get to know someone is to grab a hot drink and go for a walk with them.”

Don’t Use

The worst use of this is look a certain way - knowledgeable, impressive, interesting. Basically any use rooted in getting another person to like you. Genuine connection doesn’t start from a place of elevating one person over another. Plus honestly 90% of people just do not care about why you think you’re interesting, important, etc and hate feeling pressured to validate you.

Examples:

“My boss was even stumped by the issue but I figured it out on my own.”

“All my friends say I’m the best at baking.”

“I keep a bunch of tools in my car, I’m ready to fix anything anywhere.”

You

The focus is on the other person. You topics are ultimately about letting the other person share the story of themselves.

Best Use

The best use of You topics is to better understand how a person understands themselves. Open ended questions that invite them to show their thinking as well and shows you how they reason. The common acronym FORD (family, occupation/occupy time, recreation, dreams) is a decent

Example:

“So how did you find yourself in this city? What was that journey like?”

“Why did you take up [your hobby]? What drew you to it?”

Don’t Use

Don’t use you topics to actively try to find fault with someone else. It’s great to have standards and hard no’s for your friendships and relationships. But poking around for them upfront can alienate people who you’d otherwise like - suspicion is not a desirable quality in a friend or potential partner. Ultimately you have to let a person show you who they are and make a personal call. There’s no short cut.

Example:

“So why did you and your ex break up?”

“So you get angry easily then?”

Both

The focus is on a shared expertise/language, not on the story of either of you.

Best Use

The best use of both topics is to notice things about them they wouldn’t think to explicitly share necessarily and to connect in a way that only people with your shared interest or expertise allows.

Example:

My partner and I both have a background in academic medical research. However when we talk about it, it becomes apparent that my focus is on the practical and researcher side and hers is on the data and compliance side. It’s interesting to note where our similar interests compliment and diverge.

Don’t Use

Don’t use both topics to try one up or show you know more than the other person. The minute you do that the shared aspect - and therefore connection - is gone.

Example:

I once went on a date with a man who spent a half hour explaining how GIS systems work in a very “look at me” way after I mentioned I had used them when I was studying forestry in college. It was boring as hell.

Neither

The focus is on a topic without a shared expertise/language, not on the story of either of you.

Best Use

The best use of neither topics is a shared exploration/experience. One person will usually know a little more about a topic than the other person. The person who knows less benefits by learning about a topic they’re curious about. Their questions and observations invite the other to think about this topic in a new light so the experience winds up being somewhat shared.

Examples:

A woman in line at Lowes let me know I could overwinter mums in this area. I proceeded to ask her about how she’d taken such good care of hers and whether the effortwas worth it. She thoughtfully answered my questions and I learned a lot.

I mentioned to my partner a personal project I’m considering undertaking. She asks about my motivations for it and in doing so I have to further clarify them. She learned a little about what my project was about and I learned what I was really after, seeing it fresh.

Don’t Use

Don’t use neither topics to soapbox about things that are of solely personal interest. If someone makes it clear they’re not interested pivot to something more interesting. Even neither topics require at least a little bit of common ground.

Examples:

I regularly talk about group hypocrisies I’m trying to make sense of before realizing that people outside of that group don’t really care.

Ideal Ratio

In general, in reflecting on my own conversations, I think a ratio where more than half the conversation is on either both or neither topics are the most rewarding. It’s where neither party walks away feeling like they talked too much about themselves and when meaningful and interesting topics still have been discussed.

I think it’s a common mistake to try to get the conversation to be 50% you, 50% me. That’s where conversations feel like a job interview and get exhausting real quick. They also have an appearance of depth as people disclose more to keep the conversation going but with out a feeling of connection after because little time is spent on exploration and shared experience.

How to Respond

So knowing what topic you’re currently or want to talk about is one part of this, but the other is choosing a response. I generally let the other person’s response dictate some measure of my response.

Pivot

If someone seems negatively engaged - leaning back, looking around a lot, arms crossed, giving short answers - I pivot to a neutral topic. I find neutral topics work best because the focus is not on either of you - they don’t feel like they’re under pressure to disclose or act interested in you. Neutral topics also allow them to lead the pace - asking questions and making observations at the level they feel comfortable. If they continually seem negatively engaged, it’s usually best to bail from the conversation, especially if asking questions about the dynamic itself seems like it might not be welcome.

Matching

If someone seems neutrally engaged - mostly looking in your direction, not leaning toward or away, giving input on what you’re saying - I match and continue with the topic.

FOOL

Being a little like the Fool in the Major Arcana is actually a great way to be a good conversationalist - genuine, curious, brave, and receptive. Bellow are some concrete ways how.

Follow up questions - Good follow up questions come from a genuine place of curiousity. They also tend to either fill in gaps in your own understanding or encourage the speaker expand the discussion into a new but related area.

Observation - Observations on the topic itself are great but not your only option. You can oberve how a person seemed to feel when talking about the topic. You can observe that they’d touched on a related topic before. Comparison is a fruitful ground for observations as well - “That’s similar to…” and ”That’s very different than….”

Opinion - Offering an opinion or requesting their opinion is a good way to keep a conversation going. In general, it’s best to avoid generalizations, soften them a little to start with, and make sure there is some measure of compassion in the opinion you’re sharing. Rigidity leaves little room for discussion and exploration.

Levity - Where appropriate, make a joke, share a meme, craft a pun, tease them a little. Laughter is a shared experience that connects us.

Building

If someone seems positively engaged - leaning forward, making eye contact, coming closer to you for neurotypical people and actively engaging with the content of what you’re saying regardless of stims or eye contact for neurodivergent folks - I build on what we’re talking about. I self disclose my feelings and personal connections to the topic one step further than what the person I’m talking with has.

It’s important not to disclose a lot more than the person you’re talking with has. It leads to a vulnerability hangover for you and can be quite awkward and uncomfortable for them. If you disclose just a little more than the person you’re chatting with, then it’s much more easy to recover and match their level if they seem uncomfortable with what you shared.

Decision Tree

“What topic are we talking about currently?”

Me - Set expectations, share preferences; you focused

You - Understand you as you understand yourself; other person focused

Both - Connect over a shared language; idea focused

Neither - Connect over a shared exploration; idea focused

“What cues am I getting from the other person?”

If positive, build on current topic - be vulnerable

If neutral, match on current topic - be a FOOL*

If negative, pivot to a different topic - preferably neutral or in ratio**

*FOOL

Follow up questions - genuine curiousity - “I wonder…”

Observe - conversation, feelings, topic - “I noticed…”

Opinion - cautious, concise, compassionate - “I’ve often thought…”

Levity - make jokes, share memes - laughter connects

**Ratio

51% Both/Neither

<49% Me/You

[blackdollette]

euronymous and reader have a huge fight and euro ends up getting so mad at her that he hits and she starts crying immediately and he feels so bad because he promised her he would never hit her no matter how mad he got anyways he’s like apologizing and kissing her and like carry’s her to their room but she’s still tryna put up a weak fight but she obviously gives up really fast and they just lay in bed while euro holds her and continues to shower her with love and apologies (ik u kind of already made one lik dis but i eat these up everytime mb)

ask & you shall receive (omg i think ive been spelling that wrong the entire time)

"why are you so mean?" | euronymous

meet me in the pale moonlight. - lana del rey

✮⋆˙ [tags] @faesucksass @lustkillers @mayathepsychic1999 @josibunn @si1nful-symph0ny @vanlisbon @simply-stellarr

female!reader x euronymous

word count: 888 (lucky number yall)

contents: angst

“why can’t you just listen to me for once?!” you latched onto his arm as he started to storm off. he immediately pushed you off, shoving you back into the wall. “why can’t you try to have a normal conversation?! having to listen to you whine every day has become such a pain in my ass and i’m sick of it!” he snapped back at you.

euronymous had come home after a bad day. you’d tried to cheer him up by cuddling with him for a little, only resulting in you getting pushed off. you’d asked why he was so upset, but that didn’t go so well, and that’s how you got here.

“can’t you just tell me what’s wrong?! i just wanna help you but you keep shutting me out!” he tried to walk away from you again, but you stood in front of him, blocking his path. he stares daggers at you as he speaks his following harsh words. “well maybe i don’t want a whiny little bitch getting all up in my business. ever thought of that?”

you stood there, staring blankly at him. euronymous had gotten mad at you before, but it had never to the point of him insulting you. a wave of anger washed over you. “how could you say that to me?! i’m you’re girlfriend, for crying out loud!” you started backing up from him a little, bracing yourself for a loud response. 

his pale cheeks flushed red. “oh yeah? well maybe that’s where i went wrong in the first place! you’re so clingy it’s like i’m not even allowed to breathe when i’m around you!” you noticed that his fists were balled and trembling slightly, but you paid no attention to that. “well maybe if you communicated with me more, we wouldn’t even be having this argument! i feel like you don’t even care about this relationship anymore!”

“you think i dont care? you’re the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. never forget that.” his tone is more cold and bitter than you’ve ever heard before. you think that he might truly mean everything that he’s saying to you, and the thought makes your entire body weak. you feel your heart breaking with every word he says, but manage to get one last thing out. “i wish i never met you! this relationship was a mistake.”

you saw him raise his fist. before you could process another thought, you felt a firm hand strike you right on the cheek, surely leaving a bruise. you fell to the ground, the impact being strong enough to completely throw off your balance. euronymous glared at you as you struggled to get up. “say that again, whore. i dare you.” you managed to stumble up on your feet, holding your cheek gingerly. you looked at him with tear-filled eyes before running off into your bedroom, only catching a glimpse of his regretful expression.

you walked in and slammed the door shut behind you, collapsing onto the ground as you choked out pained sobs. it didn't take half a brain to know that your relationship had been falling apart, but you’d been trying your best to revive things while they could still be saved. but maybe you were screwed from the very beginning and didn’t even know.

your thoughts were interrupted by a gentle, almost nervous knock on the door. you weren’t in the mood to talk. “go away.” your voice was raspy and slightly muffled. “angel… please…” you couldn’t quite make it out, but it sounded like he was crying. you sighed, standing up and walking over to the bed, sitting down with your arms crossed.

he opened the door, sheepishly peeking his head through the crack. he met your angry gaze with one of pain and regret. he slowly walked in, closing the door behind him. he couldn’t look directly at you as he sat beside you on the bed, but you could tell that the argument was killing him on the inside. “...i’m sorry…” he whispered so softly that you could barely hear him.

he scoops you up into his arms, planting a soft kiss on the place where he hit you. you were still giving him the cold shoulder, refusing to let him think that you had forgiven him. he wraps his arms around your waist, holding you like you were a fragile bird that had fallen out of its nest. you refused to even look in his direction, but the way he peppered soft little kisses all over you made it difficult to stay so mad at him.

you half glanced at him, but that was all it took to bring a little smile onto his face. he laid down, pulling you on top of him as he kissed your forehead. “i know i’m an asshole. i’m so sorry for what i did… i-i didn’t mean to break my promise…” his voice broke midway through the sentence. 

you sigh, looking down. he looks at you directly in the eye. “i’ll never hurt you like that again. i swear it.” the way his voice shook told you how much he feared losing you. you rested your head on his chest, hearing his heart racing. he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close to him and letting you know that he would never let anyone hurt you again.

author's note: this was a little rushed, im sorry :(( and it was in my drafts for a long long time. but i hope you liked it :)) xoxo

[galeorderbride]

👉🏼👈🏼 may you do headcanons for Rolan, Dammon and Wyll with a GN or Fem Tav that isn’t very physically strong, but an absolute beast with magic? I’m talking like, they’re breaking a sweat picking up a large battle axe, but casting spells is like second nature to them? Healing, debuffs, and attacking spells. They don’t make a show of it, but are quite proud of it. (My lil Tav is a bard and storm sorcerer, if that helps) (btw: I hope you have a nice day! 💖)

May you have a nice day too, anon! Thanks for this cute request! And also for your patience!

Tags: F!Tav (no appearance described), T rating, I went a little fluffy with these.

Headcanons below for Wyll, Dammon and Rolan (in that order):

Wyll:

Wouldn’t doubt you for a second! Since he joins Tav’s side as a companion, he’d see first hand how much of a beast she would be with magic. He might poke a little fun at her for struggling to move large rocks or missing a hit with her staff, but when she incinerates a goblin in one hit from a mere fire bolt cantrip, there can be no debate that Tav is a force to be reckoned with. Everything is all in good fun, and he’d become drawn to the little moments he’d see her playing with strands of weave to pass the time. Firelight glowing against her skin, cheeks blush from a glass or two of wine as purple strands flowed around her.

In between those fascinating moments, he’d take advantage of Tav’s lack of physical aptitude. Offering to pick up heavy objects for her, carry supply boxes to and from, chop wood for the fire (in hopes that she was in the sight line to be watching). For the first time, he’d feel useful without having to rely on his warlock powers. Simply labouring to help someone, and a person he grew to care about very deeply, at that. Seeing her smile and thank him every time was just a bonus.

His favourite moment was after fighting the Bullette in the Underdark. A particularly taxing beast, and one that took a sinister swipe at him as he got a little too close with his rapier. The creature left a large gash on his arm, blood pooling out of the wound and staining his shirt. Tav wasn’t a cleric, he accepted having to wait until arriving at camp for Shadowheart’s help. But he was wrong.

Tav sat him down on a broken tree stump and began to hover her hand over the wound. Azure particles of healing magic sealing the cut and cleaning off the drying blood. Wyll shivered at her touch, overwhelmed by both the feeling of sizzling weave and the intimacy between them. Foreign to him after so many years playing the Blade of Frontiers, avoiding the ire of Mizora. He inched a little closer to Tav on the log, sighing in relief as the agony of his injury disappeared. Left only with their faces inching closer.

“You are full of surprises,” he said.

Dammon:

He’s all about smithing, crafting tools and weapons with the heaviest, toughest metals. Infernal iron being the most interesting to him. Getting to know Tav had provided much needed motivation to keep with his work, as she’d allow him to information dump on his favourite kinds of elements, how much he learned in his time in Avernus, even showing her blueprints he created. She was simply a joy to talk to, and had fascinating things to say about all things magic. Reminding him a bit of Rolan, but not quite so proud of her gift.

Ultimately, he is charmed by Tav’s humility. Treating magic as a labour of love rather than a weapon or status symbol to behold. In perfection, there was imperfection, Dammon knew that well. And he was positively charmed when Tav tried to help him move a large battle axe out of the way, struggling to drag it to the nearest corner of his makeshift shop. Trying to hide the grunts and heavy breaths as she used both arms to slide the weapon back. Dammon grinned, stuck in how adorable she looked when she didn’t notice him noticing her. He blew his cover, laughing out loud when Tav swore under her breath and used a sending spell to drive the axe into the corner with a smack against the wooden bearing.

“Were you watching me just now?” She asked, brow raised in a cheeky expression.

He raised his hands in defeat. “Was a little difficult when you sounded like an ox in pain.”

She scoffed, containing her laugh, “Don’t you know how to compliment a lady.”

Dammon cleared his throat, masking the nervousness that still coated his face every time she did something even adjacent to flirting. Leave it to a sorcerer to render someone speechless, a charisma only championed by a witty warlock.

Tav smiled, patting his shoulder as she said, “Don’t worry, just joking around. You’re right, after all, I am the weakest link when it comes to strength. It’s either magic or endurance, really.”

“Well,” Dammon started with a careful smirk, “You certainly showed that axe who’s boss with that magic of yours.”

Dammon had a silent thought as the two of them eyed each other from across the shop. A potential, an idea he dared not think too hard about lest he jinx any chance of it happening. Maybe the two of them could make up for what the other didn’t have. She could bring forth a strong, admirable magic while he supplied the strength, the tools. He’d never be a Herculean warrior, but he could lift pounds and pounds of heavy metal after years of blacksmithing. And if she were ever in need of such services, he’d be there in a heartbeat.

Rolan:

Both him and Tav are casters, fascinated and intertwined with the magic of the weave. One might think that Rolan would find friendly solidarity with a fellow spell caster, but things are never that simple with him, are they? At first, Rolan might be a little dismissive towards Tav, especially if she’s a sorcerer rather than a wizard. He’d humour the times he’d see Tav do magic, acknowledging it to be impressive but unpractised. Ignoring the eye rolls from Cal and Lia who saw right through his ruse.

That ruse being that, deep down, Rolan felt a little envious of Tav’s abilities. Especially as the goblins closed in on the Grove, Tav and her companions fought alongside the tieflings atop the fortified gate. Her spell work was decisive, powerful. High level spells and cantrips wreaking havoc on the goblins below, a firebolt at the oil barrels causing an explosion. Followed by a skilled thunder wave to knock spiders off the platforms. This wasn’t to say he didn’t do his part, a detail oriented and savvy wizard. But as capable as he was, he also found himself with the nasty habit of comparing himself to others.

After the fight, Rolan sat on a pair of discarded boxes as Cal and Lia excitedly re-enacted the battle. Joking and horsing around with some of the tiefling kids while the adults began to pack up for the road. Tav was there as well, doing her part to contribute as always. Smiling and chatting with the refugees as she walked slowly up the path to the Grove. She ended at Rolan, standing over him with a soft grin, glinting in the dusty sunlight behind her. Hair moving in the little breeze, wafting with the scent of fresh water and florals. An aura that, somehow, left him calm. A feeling he’d been having since the party at her camp. When he’d managed to actually talk to her for a few minutes without trying to prove himself. He thought back to that a lot.

“Mind if I sit down with you?” She asked, seating herself on the box next to his when he nodded.

“I figured you’d be out there helping pack everyone’s wagon,” Rolan said, eyes shifting from side to side, unable to look her in the eye without an embarrassing blush not even his complexion could hide.

She chuckled, “Admittedly, I’m not much help. Bex and Danis did their best to humour me as I struggled to put a single box on the wagon. Hard not to give up after a minute.”

Rolan sighed, “I see. I’m not the strongest out there either. Not exactly a talent of most wizards.”

“At least we have our magic,” she said. “I enjoyed creating those little illusions with you at the party. Maybe we can do that again sometime?”

He thought back to that moment, when she caught him performing a little magic for Cal and Lia. She clapped for him, a blip of encouragement next to the teasing of his siblings. Tav and him walked off together, he wasn’t exactly sure how she convinced him to do that, and they did more illusory magic together. Creating different colours and effects, Tav even created a stag, saying he reminded her of the calm but confident creature. He was a nervous mess the entire time. Fumbling words, avoiding eye contact. Never gaining the courage to tell her how much he enjoyed that night.

He cleared his throat, shrugging off the lurching anxiety over what the right thing to say was. “If we manage to cross paths again. Perhaps we could.”

Tav smiled, knocking her arm against his playfully. “I look forward to it.”

[inawearyworld]

free if you truly wish to be: chapter iv

shit goes DOWN. as y'all have probably gathered. bc. yknow. the plot of the movie. but first there's a song yayyyyyyyyy

2023!wonka x oc, this chapter ~2.5k

god, i love musicals.

(edit: realized after posting that i was looking at the wrong page of the screenplay while writing this and therefore royally screwed up the song structure of a world of your own but it’s fiiiiiiine)

once again, thank you mat for that interview taking a typical one-dimensional dahl villain and letting him be a more complex character. also i should probably throw a content warning on this one for depiction of a slightly abusive relationship

but i promise everything's gonna be okay soon-happy new year everyone!!

part three fic masterlist part five

While going through a time of personal growth involving trying to unravel one’s identity from that of one’s rich and powerful husband, it often happens that there are advantages to said husband being wrapped in worry over a new business rival-and, therefore, spending far more time at the office.

Wren’s favorite advantage at the present moment was that she was the only one to watch the mail come in.

Deep purple stationery was the signal she looked for-and steadily received, then returned with her own emerald letters-every day. The notes included scrawled updates regarding the operation to allow the earnest young chocolatier his day in the sun, anecdotes about the group of launderers that supported it (who she’d snuck out to meet often enough that they now felt like a second family), tales of a mysterious orange man, and exchanges of advice, witticisms, and Shakespeare quotes.

The handwriting was inexperienced, and there were more than a fair share of spelling errors toward the start of their correspondence, but she didn’t care a whit.

We’ve got the shop, Willy had written one day. For now, the task is digging through its decrepit debris and designing its decoration. (The credit for those words goes to Noodle-she says hello.) There are so many possibilities, I barely know where to start.

Start with the “why”, Wren wrote back. That’s what I always do. If there’s a piece I’m struggling to sing and I lose motivation to practice, I go back to the reasons I love the piece, even all the way back to the reasons I love the arts in the first place. Maybe there’s something in there for your shop-what made you want to share your chocolate with the world? (And hello to you too, Noodle!)

My dear Wren, came the reply, you’ve just given me the best of ideas.

He told her then about his mother and the inspiration she provided. Wren would be lying if she’d said a tear hadn’t fallen onto that particular letter.

As for how to keep him safe from the Cartel, police, and every other corrupt authority, Wren did her part by becoming Florence again whenever necessary. She acted less suspicious around her husband, leading him to be less secretive-although the gain in information was miniscule, it was better than nothing.

Felix’s rages would range anywhere from tittering, jealous rants to scheming monologues during which his whole being seemed to take on a lower, darker, more calculating tone. She’d listen carefully to all of these, tactfully calling out anything that might get him to consider he was wrong, but that had little to no effect.

Plan B, then, she’d realized, is all I can do.

So, whenever Felix seemed particularly incensed or just on the verge of coming up with how to destroy his rival, Florence would swoop in with wine and dark lipstick and a low-cut dress. She’d endure being his caged pet songbird, his doll, his perfect plaything, only because she had the growing feeling that things were about to change.

If Willy’s shop becomes successful enough to be completely undeniable, maybe the Cartel will finally acknowledge him as an equal. Maybe I’ll finally be seen as an equal, too. Maybe things will finally be truly fine.

So, night after night, she’d sit on her husband’s lap, twirl his tie, and kiss his neck until he’d forgotten the name of Wonka.

The same could not be said for her.

~

Due to just how glamorized she always had to be while in public, it didn’t take much to come up with disguise enough to be able to visit the new shop on its opening day.

With a fluttering sense of hope, Wren approached the fourth building of the Galeries Gourmet, blending in seamlessly with the sea of soon-to-be-wonderstruck passers-by. She cast a few nervous glances to the window of the Fickelgruber office, at which the man stood in his usual stance. There was no chance, though, of his recognizing her trademark ginger flame amongst the crowd; it was safely tucked under a dark, low-brimmed hat.

This could have set her mind at ease, but the fact that he looked even more smug than usual as he surveyed the ground below him made her nervous.

Did they plan something?

She was distracted from this worry by a sudden flash of color at the long-empty shop’s door. Willy Wonka stepped through, looking more himself than she could have ever imagined. He addressed the crowd with a flourish, and she marveled at his ability to combine showmanship with authenticity.

He took a skeptical older man’s arm, leading him to the shop’s entrance, and began to sing.

All at once, the shop transformed before all of their eyes, flooding with color, and the music settled into a sparking pulse that thrilled Wren to the core.

Willy grinned, fully in his element, and the doorway went dark. Gloved hands presented chocolate wonders as their creator sang them into existence. When he lit a match, the store seemed to come alive, and Wren gasped.

If his letter was anything to go by, the sight he had created was an homage to his childhood on his mother’s boat, brought to life in a way nearly too beautiful to be true.

Willy and the other man danced up a bridge of sorts as his song continued, proudly offering his shop as a world for each of his customers to call their own. Overtaken and lifted by the enchanting environment, Wren squealed with the rest of the crowd and ran into the shop, ripping the hat from her head and allowing her auburn curls to tumble freely down.

She threw her head back and laughed aloud. Her lack of makeup, and plain blouse and skirt replacing the usual emerald-colored finery, gave her assurance that she wouldn’t be recognized here; this was the closest thing she’d experienced to liberation in a very long while, and she relished it, along with the sweetly simple soar of Willy’s voice across his song.

When she looked up at him again, he was sitting on the boat that floated on the circling chocolate river, and she noticed he’d already been staring with a sideways grin. As the bassline that came from nowhere launched into a rollicking chromatic vamp, he tipped his hat to her, and she gave an enamored wave.

The second verse passed, and suddenly he’d reached her, extending a hand which she took without a second thought. He helped her onto the boat, then pulled her alarmingly close, but before she could say a thing about it, a cloud of smoke appeared around them.

Wren blinked and realized that she and Willy were now at the base of the massive chocolate tree in the center of the shop.

“How did you-”

But he only smiled and started to dance his way up the tree.

“A world of your own,” he sang, then gestured an invitation straight towards her.

This’ll be easy enough, she thought, nearly bursting with joy.

“A place to escape to,” she continued, running farther up the tree to meet him in the middle. His expression filled with awe upon finally hearing her sing, and they began a whirling back-and-forth.

“A world of your own-”

“-where you can be free!”

“Wherever you go, wherever life takes you…”

“This is your home,” she sang to him, twirling herself into his arms and beaming with pride. He’s found it-he’s created it.

“A world of your own,” they finished. He looked at her for a moment, seeming struck, then kissed her hand and disappeared through the branches of the tree to continue with the song’s bridge. She let out a dazed and happy breath, taking a moment to let her gaze roam the shop from her perch in the chocolate tree.

She didn’t know what would happen next, but she’d be damned if she wouldn’t let herself enjoy this moment.

~

What did happen next was…as an understatement, not what any of them had hoped.

She wished she could say it was a complete surprise, and she wished she could have done more to stop it. The candy started having disastrous effects, the customers understandably balked, and it was clearly not Willy’s fault in the least. In a blur, the shop was in ruins, and Wren sat in shock with the little group who’d worked so hard to make it magical.

The candyman himself was devastated; not just by the massive setback, but by the absence of his mother’s spirit. Wren and Noodle sat by his side, but Abacus ushered them up. It broke Wren’s heart to think of leaving him like this-if the truest and most trusting dreamer on Earth can be broken down, where’s the hope for the rest of us?-but she somehow still felt she had to follow the group out.

She felt a hug around her waist and a held-back sob, and looked down to see Noodle clinging onto her. Wren immediately knelt to her level and hugged the girl close, finding it hard now to keep back her own tears.

“Terrible shame what-”

“Florence?”

Slowly, she opened her eyes, her breath dropping to the floor.

Slugworth had spoken first, a smooth and practiced opening to what would have turned into a gloat. The voice that had interrupted him was genuinely shaken and clearly belonging to her husband.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to Noodle, who nodded. “You can go, you shouldn’t have to see this-”

“Florence,” his voice came again, at a loss. She took a breath, stood up, and faced him with tears in her voice.

“Hi, Felix.”

Silence.

Slugworth looked with growing puzzlement between the woman and the girl, and Felix could only stare at his wife with dawning realization.

“You’ve been working with him,” he said simply, every usual quirk of inflection having vanished.

For a moment, the wash crew surrounded her in an attempt at a shield, and she heaved a breath to keep back a sob-of fear, of gratefulness for these friends that had become family over the past weeks, of everything suddenly crashing down.

“I’ll be okay,” she said quietly to the wash crew and perhaps to myself. “You all should go. Like you were going to. I’m sorry.”

They didn’t move.

She looked at Piper, whose worried hand was on her arm. There was an unspoken vow of protection between the women in that moment, but Wren’s eyes pleaded, so Piper nodded sadly, took Noodle’s hand, and the group left.

Wren was almost afraid to look at Willy, but she did; the boy was staring at the old chocolate bar in his hands, looking as if he could barely process a thing.

The sympathy in her gaze must have been far too obvious, because she suddenly heard footsteps, felt a hard grip on her wrist, and gasped in pain as it was yanked up and backwards.

“Darling,” Felix hissed with a sinister edge, though his voice was breaking, “I don’t know how or why this betrayal-”

“Betrayal?” she finally cried out, breaking free from his grasp as Willy rushed between them. “You lot have just poisoned dozens of innocent people, all for a business rivalry, and I won’t-”

“If you want your family not to starve, you had better lower your voice,” he barked.

Every speck of air seemed to leave the room.

“...My family?”

“I may have been distracted enough for the past weeks to ignore the mail that came in and out of our house, but I had not always been that blind. I thought your compassion to be an incomprehensible gesture, but I let it slide. When I felt like it.”

…They haven’t gotten everything I’ve sent.

They haven’t-

“In fact,” he continued, “it served as what was almost a pleasant reminder of the truth. For your family, for your stupid dream, and for your sweetly dependent soul-you need me.”

“If you knew I was poor, why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because it’s the same way for me!”

This was the peak of what had been a building explosion, and this was the moment in which they both remembered there were other people in the room.

“What?” the four besides him breathed, almost in unison.

“Oh, you heard right,” Felix launched into speech, the characteristic gestures starting to work their way back into him. “I came from nearly nothing, just the same. But I did what I had to do to climb to the top. I cast them all away, left my old life behind completely, and I suppose it was a foolish hope to think my wife would do the same. But she-but you-you are nothing but a guileless, deceitful bleeding heart.”

“I…”

Tears blurred her vision.

“I am…genuinely sorry that you felt you had to hide your past, but that doesn’t excuse trying to make the rest of the world match your insecurity and fit your little chocolate mold. And if that makes me a bleeding heart…I’m proud of the title.”

For a moment, the man looked as if he would allow his wife’s words to affect him.

Then his face, normally so expressive, turned completely cold.

She’d lost him.

She’d never truly had him to lose.

But she looked at Willy, and she thought of the wash crew, and she realized she finally had a truer support system. And if she could try to start over, find some other way to earn money to send to her family without interception, and some other way to reach the dreams that felt so far away at the moment, she knew Felix would be wrong: she didn’t need him.

After a long silence, Slugworth cleared his throat.

“Get her out of here. We have business with Mr. Wonka.”

What?

Her and the younger man’s eyes widened, and they grabbed each other’s hands on instinct, but a small number of policemen came around the corner of the shop door at Slugworth’s order. They clamped hands on her shoulders and dragged her away from Willy as the Cartel stood silently and watched.

“Wait-wait, no, I-”

“Wren-”

She struggled, fought, kicked, but was forced into the backseat of a police car-

“Let me go, you corrupt bastards-”

“Wren-”

“Let me-”

“Just drop her somewhere in town,” Felix said coolly. “Somewhere that isn’t my home.”

“WREN!”

The car door was slammed, and the last thing she saw was the Cartel advancing on a dazed Willy, opening a suitcase of cash.

All she could do was scream, and the scream turned into a cry.

They did indeed drop her somewhere. She burst out of the car the second it had stopped, and the officers drove away without a word.

Sick with worry and trying to regain her breath, she looked around, almost fainting with relief when she saw the laundry building. Piper, having heard the commotion, stood outside, and they looked at each other for a moment before Wren fell sobbing into her arms.

This is not over.

[eddiemunson-reader-shame]

Good morning Hawkins in my daily struggle to power through Flight of Icarus despite my problems with it, I present to you:

Eddie Munson x Reader Headcanons - Hellfire Club Edition

Author’s Note: Y’all I am fucking STOKED! I’m finally meeting up with some old buddies this Saturday to play D&D again for the first time in four years! Me and my friends have been trying to find someone to DM for us for a while (my lover doesn’t want to which is totally fair). And I fell in love with Eddie helping Gareth make his new character in Flight of Icarus, and I feel like we have a significant lack of Reader in Hellfire Club headcanons. So, from one D&D nerd to the community, please enjoy these headcanons which is basically just me gushing for five hours about D&D.

For context: Let’s say Hellfire Club meets Fridays in the Drama Room after school hours.

Okay, first and foremost, Eddie plays Advanced Dungeons and Dragons in 1986 like its 2024 fifth edition in Hellfire Club.

Flight of Icarus got one thing right: Eddie doesn’t give a shit about rules half the time. While it’s a great guideline to start off from, I feel like Eddie would be big on homebrewing.

There may be some homebrew campaigns and a good majority of the storyline in the main campaign is improv, but that doesn’t stop him from respecting if there are players who want to follow the game rules.

He will tease the shit out of a rules lawyer though.

I can see Mike Wheeler as the rules lawyer at first, only to be thoroughly humbled by the first homebrew one shot Eddie put him in.

Eddie will either help you make a character in private or with the boys in case you need more brains to help explain things to you.

If you’re really new, he has his own private session 0 with you to roll for stats. He will meticulously go through all of your character’s details with you and help explain things no matter how many times you ask. He’s very patient, and he loves when you ask him questions.

It makes him feel happy you care so much about his hobbies!

Another big one: Eddie allows multi classing. You wanna be a Cleric who was torn from their order and forced into a life of crime as a Rogue?

“Bitchin’. We love a sassy holy member of the clergy that’s reverted to a life of crime. Let’s decide together how many levels you want in each class.”

You want to go for a specific subclass that cancels out your main class? *cough DRUID cough*

“Fuck it babe. I’ll allow you to keep your armor proficiencies, your spells, AND I’ll lift the requirements for castle worship only. Your Druid can pray for cleric spells in the woods.”

Hellfire Club is literally so relaxing even though there are insults thrown every five minutes and you might find yourself making enemies for the few hours Hellfire Club meets. But it’s not serious. It’s all in good fun and everyone makes up after.

Eddie often uses the Rule of Cool: If you make it sound cool, he’ll allow it in a campaign.

HOWEVER…

Eddie Munson is your sweetheart, your love of your life, your one, but he is a fucking BASTARD of a DM sometimes.

If you get a high roll, he will throw all manner of shit at you in a campaign.

You have a tanky build? Try soloing five groups in a row with no healer bitch.

Spellcaster with a high level arsenal of spells? Your long rests to regain spell slots will never know peace.

Cleric with high level healing spells? Woe, Silence be upon thee.

This mother fucker will not go easy on you if you’re a first timer, but thankfully he will explain to you in detail what he’s doing, what he’s rolling for, etc.

But that’s only for your first game and only because you’re his baby.

If you have a solid idea of how to play, good luck bro. You’re gonna need it.

You, Jeff and Frank collectively (jokingly) plan to one day jump Eddie after school if he continues his traditions of thinking of sadistic ways to kill your first character for a new class.

You tried to warn the freshmen about Eddie’s bullshit but they didn’t believe you. Especially Dustin, who defended Eddie to the death and chastised you for calling Eddie a “shit licking whore” of a DM because hey, that’s your boyfriend! Be nice to him!

… Dustin now only refers to the DM’s commentaries as “And now a word from our Shit Licking Whore…”

I can see Eddie becoming one of those DMs whose goal is to fucking win at all costs even though it’s really not the point but… you know. He seems like he’d have a competitive streak.

Based on Experience: You make eight in Hellfire Club. For a normal campaign that’s way too many goddamn people and turns can take fucking forever. Eddie often gets impatient and hates when the campaigns get mind numbing.

So Eddie’s devised this solution: One Shots have to be rolled for with a d20 to determine who gets to be one of four players, winners need the highest scores of the group. Hellfire Club’s main campaign though is anything goes, Eddie alone DMs, and all Hellfire Club members can play. Because the main is anything goes, it’s also the hardest. And once your character is dead, there’s no revives. The main campaign is not the most newbie friendly. You can opt out of it if you don’t feel comfortable with the main campaign.

The one shots are mainly official campaigns from the sourcebooks, but there are some homebrew ones allowed as long as Eddie checks them over first. These ones are the easier games to get into.

Eddie will allow anyone who wants to DM a chance to DM these one shots, because he honestly gets sick of being the forever DM and actually wants to play sometimes.

You prefer Eddie as a player because he will strategize beforehand with everyone while he rolls up a character. He will base his decision on everyone else’s, fulfilling any role you need. He also will help explain to you about certain encounters or walk you through picking spells or such as you level up.

If you need help while Eddie DMs, the best people to sit with are Gareth, Jeff, and Mike. Gareth and Jeff have the most knowledge about how spells work and helping you to walk through what would benefit the party. Mike is an invaluable tool to have being a former DM, and while he may get annoyed if you ask too many questions, he can tell you just about anything regarding abilities, monsters, or what effects certain spells have. He’ll also help you pick a weapon proficiency that matches your character’s needs.

If you need cheering up, sit next to Dustin or Frank. Franks got the depression snacks in clutch and Dustin will try to cheer you up if your character dies in a famous Eddie Munson death scene.

Dice Jail for Bad And Naughty Traitor Dice get thrown in a mason jar by Eddie’s DM screen. He shakes the jar full of the shitty dice and you all have to scream “SHUN THE TRAITORS”.

Eddie keeps his dice in a Crown Royal drawstring bag. I said what I said.

He even buys a bottle of Crown Royal for you so you have a matching bag for your dice too.

You best believe anything you need to start off the campaign, Eddie is going to buy it for you.

I will only say this once: Session 0 is the best day ever in Hellfire Club. Eddie goes all out: Pizza, drinks, snacks, candy, music, a little bit of the devil’s lettuce, he goes all fucking out.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Unfamiliar

Part 2

Demon!Grim gets summoned by a bunch of kids accidentally and immediately decides to adopt them in retaliation

<P1

Grim tried not to look too put upon as the kids rubbed his head. It wasn’t hard — it was, kind of, a nice feeling, just a little embarrassing.

At least cats aren’t particularly expressive creatures.

“What should we call him?” Trinity mused.

“Are we sure it’s a ‘him’?” Deuce asked.

The three kids hesitated, briefly.

“If Trinity says it’s a him then it probably is,” decided Ace. “That demon guy said ‘create’ a lot, didn’t he? It’s probably her choice, then.”

They nodded their agreement, vehemently, their faces bright red.

Oh thank Satan for the innocence of children.

“So… names,” said Ace, leaning back against the bed with a frown. “If we go with our usual pattern, he’s number four, so… I don’t know. Cater?”

“That’s too close to a cat pun. No puns allowed,” Deuce said immediately, crossing his arms over his chest.

“And it’ll be really confusing if we ever do get a real ‘Four’,” added Trinity.

There was a moment of silence. A kind of bitterness that suggested their fake names were not something as simple as the three of them being from the same friend group. Unless they just really didn’t want to have a fourth friend, but… Grim was getting a bad feeling about all of this.

Ace cleared his throat awkwardly, breaking the tension. “Great, well, do you have any bright ideas?”

“Uhhhhhh…” Deuce tipped his head back thoughtfully. “Maybe… I don’t know. He’s all black ‘n stuff. Shadow?”

“Basic,” Trinity huffed. “I vote we call him ‘Fluffy’.”

“And you said my idea was basic?”

“Yes,” Trinity said, no remorse to be seen. “And he’s my familiar, so I should get to choose his name.”

Ace smirked. “But don’t you belong to me? So, I kind of outrank you on this.”

Grim had no real eyebrows to raise, but they still raised in spirit. He still wasn’t sure what Ace was, but saying someone ‘belonged to him’ was certainly interesting.

Trinity blinked. “Oh. Maybe?”

He pressed a hand to his chest, winking. “Lucky for you, I’m actually a good owner, so I’ll let you choose.”

“You pulled my hair this morning, Mr. ‘Good Owner’,” Trinity said.

“That was an accident and you know it! Braids are hard, y’know! Especially when you have claws! And Deuce would have done way worse!”

“Why am I being dragged into this?!” Deuce complained.

Trinity stuck her tongue out at him. “Because your naming skills suck.”

“True,” said Ace.

Deuce huffed.

He opened his mouth to say something.

Only for him to be cut off by Trinity, who jumped to her feet, all traces of amusement gone from her face. “He’s home early. Why is he home early?”

“What?!” said Deuce. “But — but he’s never early!”

“Maybe it’s Deuce’s mom trying to get in again?”

“Nonono. Unless she’s gotten a witch’s help, she wouldn’t know the weak spots in my wards. And a witch would just dismantle them. It’s him,” Trinity said, grabbing the comforter by the door and throwing it onto the bed. “Someone get the rug.”

Deuce was quick to do so, pulling out the rug (he struggled a little with the sheer size of it) and rolling it out over the summoning circle.

“Fluffy!” called Ace, looking at Grim, who remembered — belatedly — that ‘Fluffy’ was him. Ace was smiling in a way that was entirely too forced. “Get under the bed, please.”

Grim may not know what was going on, but he didn’t need to be convinced. Whatever was about to happen, it was very obvious it was not going to be good. And an unregulated ‘familiar’ wasn’t likely to help things.

He slipped under the bed, drawing the shadows around himself, allowing his form to lose some of its shape, until he had blended as much as was feasibly possible.

That problem solved, Trinity lunged for Ace, almost knocking the boy to the ground in the process. She wrapped her hands around his, tightly, murmuring a healing spell under her breath.

Tension slipped from Ace’s shoulders. For all of three seconds, before he seemed to remember that they were supposed to be panicking.

Deuce’s hands flickered with light. His expression slightly pained, he fashioned a shirt out of nothing.

“Do you think there’s time to get him some water?” Ace asked, turning away briefly to change into it.

“No, definitely not,” Trinity said, shaking her head, rapidly. “I don’t — is there anything we’re missing?”

There was a knock on the door. Delicate, barely there.

The way the room lapsed into silence made the single sound deafening, though.

The kids dropped into kneeling positions. Ace did it a little too quickly, skinning his knees on the ground in the process.

No one said a word about it, because they were too concentrated on something else:

The door swung open.

A man stood in the doorway, dressed in opulent clothing. The world past the doorway was all marble and gold.

Grim got a sinking feeling in his gut. Because this person was clearly well off. There was no reason for this room to be bare.

Maybe the kids were minimalists?

Grim sure hoped so.

“Good afternoon, Sir!” the three kids chorused, the very picture of innocence.

Their expressions began to crack the longer the man stared at them.

“Your wards were easier to get past than usual,” he said.

Trinity swallowed thickly. “You’re home early. I — I wasn’t done yet.”

The man raised an eyebrow, clearly doubtful, but then he paused. He sniffed the air, and cringed, bringing a hand up to pinch his nose.

Light flickered in Deuce’s palms, and he rushed to the man, giving him a handkerchief. It was the same fabric as Ace’s shirt, bland in color and probably scratchy in texture, but it would work.

The man took it, delicately covering his nose. Deuce started to head back to his spot on the floor.

The man caught him by the wrist, dragging his hand up to see the deep cuts in his palms.

“Your hands are bleeding,” the man said, flatly. “That explains why this room smells of blood.”

Deuce looked at the ground. “I cut myself while making myself breakfast.”

“And you didn’t ask Three to heal you because…?”

Deuce flushed, glancing at Trinity, who was making a good show of looking somewhat shocked and hurt.

“I didn’t want her to be in pain,” Deuce said.

“It’d just make a new cut on my hands. It wouldn’t be anything new.”

“It might even help her with her wards,” said the man, smiling coldly.

“Maybe it would,” she agreed, quietly.

The alarm clock went off. Everyone jumped. Especially Grim, who hit his head on the mattress frame. Thankfully, the alarm was loud enough to cover up the sound.

The man hummed as he stepped around the three kids to look at the alarm. Ace’s hand, briefly, reached toward it, as if he was tempted to try to hide it, only to instantly recoil.

“I see, so…” The man snoozed the alarm. “This alarm is when you three actually start your chores for the day.”

“Well — well, we mostly just do routine maintenance,” Deuce rushed to explain. “It doesn’t take that long…”

“What I’m hearing is that I can give you three more work and not have any problems,” the man said.

The kids looked a little pale. Especially Trinity.

“Sir,” she said. “I don’t have enough blood to do more...”

“Then you can use the extra time to try to learn more complicated wards. You do know how to read, yes?”

Trinity twiddled her thumbs. “I… I can, but… magic books are really hard. The words are all weird and when you get things wrong it —.”

“I suppose it’s a good thing you’ll have plenty of time to practice, then.” He knelt and scooped up the alarm clock. “Speaking of practice… this is some complicated craftsmanship, Two. I’m impressed.”

Deuce nodded, warily. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Your creation magic is improving. I’d like you to spend your free time creating things we can sell. All of the water you may need for this will be provided, of course.”

The boy grimaced, but nodded.

Finally, the man turned to Ace. “As for you… hm… I don’t know if there’s much more I can give you to do. I’d say you could help Three with the defenses, but…”

Ace winced. “I’ve learned my lesson! I won’t do it aga —!”

The man made a strange sound with his mouth. Or… a normal sound, perhaps, but it sounded garbled to Grim’s ears. The kind of sound that only came when a Name was invoked.

Ace’s pupils dilated to the size of pinpricks. He didn’t finish his sentence. He probably couldn’t.

Grim realized, abruptly, what was going on. The fake names, the way Trinity had complained about hers getting stolen again, the panic that had appeared the moment they realized that the man — the faerie — was home.

He was going to tear the guy's throat out with his teeth. Let’s see him invoke their Names when he couldn’t speak.

The faerie was completely unaware of the growing malice hiding just beneath the bed:

“I suppose the treasury should be growing in size rather rapidly…” he continued to think aloud, as if he had never been interrupted. “That should be enough work to keep you busy…”

With no further ado, the faerie left, throwing a wave behind him, telling them to enjoy their last easy day while they could.

For a moment, the three kids were silent.

Ace buried his face in his hands. “He didn’t even let me keep the alarm clock…”

Deuce sighed and reached over, patting him on the back. “I’m sorry, man. When I figure out how to make things out of plastic, maybe he’ll let you have it.”

Ace looked doubtful. But he nodded regardless.

The three kids, reluctantly, parted ways. Grim followed at Trinity’s heels, watching her go about her… ‘chores’, to put it lightly.

The lawns were beautifully maintained, so much so that even Grim, at his rather low vantage point, could tell how much work had gone into them. It was, frankly, as if the greenery knew what was the nicest looking arrangement, and grew itself accordingly.

They were being held by an earth faerie, then.

Unless, Grim thought bitterly, he has another kid somewhere that he hasn’t met yet.

Trinity, unaware of the murder plans brewing just a few feet away, went about as usual, checking the wards. They were shockingly well-constructed for a person of her age, though that only worried Grim more — how much blood had she lost over this? He would be concerned about an adult losing this much blood.

Damn, she really could have used a familiar. Though, from what he’d heard, she’d had no intentions of using him for the classic reasons. Once or twice, as if an afterthought, she tried to channel some of his mana, but it hadn’t worked — obviously, he wasn’t actually a familiar. Thankfully, she just assumed that she was doing something wrong, and didn’t seem all that concerned with it.

The sun had just begun to sunk beneath the horizon by the time she had finished, sighing. Her face was a touch pale, her hands shaking just slightly. At least she wasn’t in danger of passing out, Grim was pretty sure.

Though, he thought as he watched her step inside and immediately start picking at the scabs on her hands, this may not be the case for long. She floated up to the ceiling.

Grim followed suit, if only because she crossed her arms and glared at him when he tried to walk normally.

He soon figured out why, though — Deuce could be found a few hallways down, a rather large puddle of water at his feet. He was talking to the water (or, Grim supposed, the water spirits), thanking them over and over again for helping him clean.

He glanced up at Trinity as she passed.

“Don’t track blood on the floors, please?”

“I’ll try not to,” she said, sighing. “But I still think you should have dominion over blood, too. It’s, like, mostly water.”

“Yeah, well, you can take that up with God when you see him.”

She huffed. “That’s not fair, I won’t be seeing God for ages.”

“It might be sooner than you think if I have to clean up your blood again!”

She stuck her tongue out at him, and then continued off down the hallway.

She poked her head into the kitchen for a moment. Ace was humming to himself as he prepared a few dishes. He’d grown a scale-covered tail since Grim saw him last, but Trinity didn’t seem all that concerned so it couldn’t have been a completely new development.

Maybe he’s a Shifter, Grim thought, though he doubted it. Shifters didn’t do things by halves. If a Shifter wanted to look like a human, it would, and Grim would be none the wiser. The claws and — now — tail sprouting from Ace suggested that he was something else.

Something that would be good in the kitchen, maybe? Grim mused, watching Ace pause briefly to toss Trinity a water bottle. But apparently he keeps track of the treasury, too. And he used to protect the place, too…

Grim could not, for the life of him, find any overlap.

What could he say? He didn’t make a habit of using random children for free labor. He’d never really felt a need to consider the mundane, everyday uses of the skill sets of specific species.

Trinity doubled back, briefly, to give Deuce the water bottle and then, finally, headed back to their room. She dropped to the floor in a heap and laid there for a minute. Grim was half-convinced that, had he not nudged her with his paw, she would have fallen asleep right then and there.

Instead she, hugging Grim to her stomach, flopped into bed. And, without even bothering with the blankets, she immediately passed out cold.

Deuce came in not much later, scratching his cheek absently, leaving behind ashy streaks everywhere his nails touched. He was a little bit more dignified, getting into bed, but only to ensure Trinity’s sleep wasn’t disturbed.

He pressed himself against her back for warmth, an arm wrapped loosely around her (he jumped, just slightly, when his hand brushed Grim’s tail). After a beat where he seemed to consider the temperature of the room, he pulled the blankets over both of them and then promptly fell asleep as well.

Ace didn’t come in until much later, three plates laden with food on his arms and a jug of water balanced atop his head. He set it all down on the end of the bed so he could poke his friends awake.

They grumbled wordlessly at him, sleepily trying to evade his attempts to bring them back to the world of the living. Deuce turned his head and spat a thin stream of water at Ace, who avoided it with practiced ease. Trinity let go of Grim in favor of turning around and burying her face in Deuce’s chest to try and hide from Ace.

Ace considered his friend's attempts for a moment, his hands on his hips.

And then his lips twitched into a sly grin.

The tail was back, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. Trinity and Deuce screamed at the cold scales looped around their waists, pulling them bodily out of bed. They were awake now, but they definitely wished they weren’t, from the looks of things. They squirmed in Ace’s hold, to no avail.

“Okay okay! I’m up! Let me go! You’re sooooo cooooold,” Deuce complained.

“I know you can warm this thing up when you want to, you're just doing this to be mean!”

“Should’ve woken up the first time,” Ace said, unrepentant. Then, he smiled. “Food time!”

The pair of kids slumped over the tail, pouting up a storm, even as plates piled high with food were set in front of them.

Ace handed the one full of watermelon to Deuce. Then, he set a meat dish down for himself — carnivorous, maybe? Trinity was the only one with a ‘balanced’ meal, by human standards, with a few fruits, vegetables, and pieces of meat.

He poured two glasses of water, and then handed the rest of the jug to Deuce, who chugged the whole thing in one go.

At least their basic needs are being met, Grim thought, though it wasn’t much of a win. If the kids got sick (or worse), their free labor would be inaccessible.

The dinner was a quiet affair. Mostly because Trinity and Deuce were still too asleep to bother with a real conversation. Ace didn’t seem to mind, so long as he got to keep his tail wrapped around them. Neither seemed to mind it. In fact, the moment she’d eaten her fill, Trinity started to slump over it, her eyes slipping closed.

Ace smiled and, once Deuce had cleared his plate, lifted the both of them back into bed with ease. It didn’t take long before the blankets were wrapped around them once again.

Ace glanced at Grim. “Doing alright there, Fluffy?”

Grim blinked at him, before nodding, however slightly.

Ace smiled and patted him on the head. “Good. Sorry that your first day here was so stressful, usually it’s not quite this bad.”

Grim didn’t know how to say the words ‘It is not your fault your Name is under the control of a horrible man’ without actually speaking, so he simply nuzzled against his hand a bit and then crawled into his lap.

(He would start purring, just to emphasize things, but he wasn’t really sure how to do that, either…)

Ace smiled, faintly, scratching him behind the ears briefly. And then he turned to his two friends. They still looked worse for wear, but marginally better than they had been before eating.

He sighed, pulling Trinity’s hair into his lap so he could fix her braid. Then, he turned to Deuce, a bottle of lotion in his hand, rubbing it into his face liberally, trying to get some moisture back into him to ensure the water faerie wouldn’t dehydrate.

He looked rather pleased with himself when he was done making sure his friends didn’t fall apart.

“What would you two do without me, huh?” he teased.

They were dead asleep, so they didn’t answer, but Ace beamed as if they had praised him regardless.

And then he sighed, gently pushing Grim from his lap so he could shift forms.

But not as a Shifter might. It was not a gradual process, where it was difficult to tell when, exactly, the change had happened.

No, Ace’s shift was abrupt. One second he was a boy, perfectly normal save for the claws and tail, and the next moment he was a long, scale-covered beast with four clawed hands and a large face that was pulled into a seemingly permanent, toothy smile.

A dragon.

… Ace was a dragon.

A dragon who lived in an empty room.

Nevermind. Their basic needs weren’t being met at all. There were no nesting materials, nothing for a dragon to hoard — no wonder he had said he ‘owned’ Deuce and Trinity, he had nothing else he could own! The faerie was doing the bare minimum to keep them alive, and nothing more!

Grim wasn’t going to kill that damn faerie anymore.

He was going to personally make the rest of his long life Hell!

———

P3>

[letmeinuroceanswim-blog]

DBD Ghostface x Fem!Survivor reader SMUT

this is NSFW, so minors DNI!

obviously TW:

slight non-con, knife riding, mentions of blood, swearing, degrading, name calling, rough man-handling, p in v, fingering, masterbation, oral.

ALSO IM BRITISH SO PLEASE DONT COME FOR ME FOR THE SPELLING OF WORDS LIKE ARSE! I’m not saying ‘ass’, sorry lol

—————————————————————————

You laboured alone on the final generator, sweaty hands working delicately to clasp the wires that sparked to life every so often.

Already, two other survivors had been sacrificed to the Entity, which only made your nerves spiral out of control. It was just you, and one other person.

Only, you had no idea where that other survivor was. And it had been quiet, too quiet, for a long time.

You briefly glanced around, the street you came to know as Haddonfield eerily empty. The distant hum of generators that had already been completed whirred in the distance, but there was still a silence that created a lump in your throat. The street lamps flickered, reminding you to focus on what you had to do to get the hell out of this trial.

You turned your attention back to the generator, twisting and pulling the compartments with a sense of urgency, the knee you used to bend on aching.

You put in a lot of work, the generator getting louder and louder the more you repaired it - only until;

a blood-curdling scream echoed throughout the street.

A shiver ran down your spine and rattled you enough to jump away from the generator. That scream signalled, to your horror, the obvious. Your breathing suddenly became erratic and your palms became sweatier than they was before.

It was now a race for the hatch.

You cautiously walked down the street, scouting as far as your eyes would allow you to see with your hands shaking.

You hated searching for the hatch. You absolutely loathed it. It was just a reminder that you was all alone, alone with the killer, that was looking for the exact same thing.

You turned your attention to one of the houses, making your way to the entrance with sweat beading down the side of your head. Your mind started to race.

‘What if the killer has found the hatch and is waiting for me to find it so they can surprise me?’

‘Should I wait for them to close it and wait by a gate?’

‘What if they find me before I find it?’

You couldn’t silence your mind. You just had to force yourself to move one foot in front of the other. You listened closely, trying to decipher if you could hear it before you saw it.

You had appeared at the entrance now, your hearing sharpening the more you stepped into the house.

For a second, you could of sworn you heard something.

‘Is that it?!’ You thought, stopping in your tracks to attemp to make it out. Your eyebrows furrowed. No, your senses had deceived you. It wasn’t the hatch, but rather some sort of flapping, as if there was a long cape moving against the wind…

‘What the hell?’

Unfortunately, you had no time to wonder about it, because as soon as you had figured it was not the hatch, a gloved hand found it’s way to your mouth, and your back had been slammed against a strong chest.

You yelped into the gloved hand, and practically screamed when a knife had been pressed against your throat.

“And where do you think you’re going, doll?”

A hoarse, muffled voice whispered in your ear, almost mocking you.

Your heartbeat was now loud in your ears, and you started to struggle against his hold. You knew it was useless, but it didn’t stop you from squirming.

Ghostface chuckled darkly in amusement at your feeble attempts to escape, enjoying the terrified look on your face.

He gripped you tighter against his body, and pressed the cold steel of the knife closer to your throat threateningly.

“Aww, such a cute little thing, you best stop that squirming or else I’ll slit your throat right here.”

You whimpered and stopped abruptly, taking his threat seriously.

Ghostface chuckled again as you obeyed him, his hand still tightly grasped against your mouth.

“Good girl, finally using your brain and staying put.”

He could hear your heavy breathing, the terror in your eyes clear as day, only serving him more amusement.

"Are you going to scream if I take my hand away from your mouth?" He asked, his voice low and calm. As he asked this, his grip on the knife got tighter, which did not go unnoticed by you, and only urged you to shake your head.

Ghostface smiled under his mask.

"Good girl." He said, slowly removing his hand from your mouth, but keeping his arm wrapped around your body to keep you in place.

"See, that wasn't so hard, now was it? I don't want to have to hurt you, princess. I just want to have a little fun with you."

You swallowed, your heart hammering in your chest.

“Why? What do you want from me?” You questioned, not bothering to hide the shakiness in your voice.

He chuckled, keeping you tightly against his body as he started to slowly let the knife in his hand drift down towards your shorts.

"What do I want from you? Hmm… entertainment, I suppose. And your company. We're gonna have so much fun, doll."

You caught on to his insinuation, and your eyes widened.

“If you’re good for me, maybe I’ll let you get the hatch. That’s what you want, hm?”

You heard the knife cutting the flimsy fabric of your shorts.

“You’ll just need to be on your best behaviour, dear. Are you gonna be a good girl for me, sweetheart? Are you gonna be a defiant bitch?”

The tip of the knife pressed against your hip, and you frantically shook your head again. The pit in your stomach made you want to be sick.

The knife had made quick work of your shorts, the tattered fabric now falling off of you and leaving you in your underwear. The air nipped at your bare skin, and you felt more exposed than ever. The knife trailed up your now exposed waist, leaving goosebumps in it’s path.

Ghostface hummed in a pleasing tone, his grip loosening, but still firm enough to ensure you wouldn’t be going anywhere. His chest was still pressed hard against your back, but he adjusted you so that you could now see his emotionless mask over your shoulder. The mere sight of it made your legs tremble from underneath you, which only increased as his hips were now against your arse.

”You’re being so good for me already.” He purred, switching the knife from his right hand to his left, so that the knife was pressed against your throat again as a silent threat that if you tried anything, you’re dead. “I’m so excited to hear what sounds you make.”

You whimpered, feeling utterly helpless and at his mercy. Which you was, and you sensed more dread was to come.

He shoved his hand down your underwear invasively, causing you to yelp in surprise. Ghostface laughed at your reaction mockingly. “Oh? Is is that easy to elicit a reaction from you, sweet girl? I’ve barely touched you yet.”

His fingers easily found your clit, and he wasted no time in rubbing circles on it with a lick of his lips (which you could not see, of course). You bit your lip, attempting to hold back any moans that may of escaped you, not wanting to give him any satisfaction as a mild method of defiance. However, he quickly caught onto this. He pressed the knife harder against your throat.

“Nuh uh, you better let me hear those pretty little sounds coming out your mouth or I’ll make you scream in some other way, doll. Come on, I wanna hear how I’m making you feel. Be a good slut for me yeah?”

He started rubbing your clit a bit faster, forcing a moan out of you much to your dismay. Despite his threat, you did not want to give him a reaction. Even though you were shit scared, you wanted to cling onto that little bit of dignity you had left.

“Yeah, that’s it.” Ghostface murmured, continuing his face paced circles. Your dignity slipped away, the moans and whimpers pouring out of you the more he abused your clit. Your body was betraying you. Him rubbing you like this was making your pussy wet, and your nipples hard. The sensation of his fingers working his magic on your clit alone was starting to create a small but noticeable pressure at the pit of your stomach, longing for more stimulation.

“Such beautiful sounds. You’re getting me all riled up here.” He whispered, his hard on becoming more and more apparent by the tightening of his pants. You could feel it pressing into your arse, which did not help the wet pool staining your underwear.

“Jesus, look at you. You fucking slut, you actually are enjoying this, aren’t you? You look so fucking good like this, cheeks all red, nipples standing at attention, fuck.” He growled, his cock begging to be released from its confinement.

Without warning, his two gloved fingers slipped inside of you, causing you to gasp and become weak in the knees. Just by inserting the fingers inside you, he could hear how wet you were, which only made his cock twitch.

“You ARE enjoying this. Fucking hell, you’re so wet. Is that all from me just playing with your clit?Fucking whore.”

He pumped his digits in and out of you, his own breath becoming heavier the more you moaned, his eyes watching the way yours closed and opened as if you was in a trance. The noises your cunt was making only made your cheeks flush even redder, almost disgusted that this killer was making you this way, a moaning, wet mess.

Your legs were becoming way too weak to keep yourself up as his fingers curled inside of you, scarping your g-spot and adding to the pressure that was rising in your stomach, threatening to be released.

“I-I can’t..”

“Oh sweet girl, have your legs turned to jelly?” He chuckled, his fingers picking up the pace.

You whined, finding yourself holding onto his strong arm still wrapped around you for some sort of support.

“P-please, I can’t stand any longer.” You whimpered out.

Ghostface hummed in thought while he took his fingers out your dripping cunt, and pushed them inside your mouth so you could taste your own juices.

“If you can’t stand any longer, then get on your knees.” He ordered, his fingers still in your mouth. You could feel his eyes on your flushed face, hair stuck to your head, your own juices smeared on your face as his fingers hung out your mouth. “Go on doll, on your fucking knees. Don’t make me ask again.” The knife, that you had forgotten was even there, pressed against your throat, and you wasted no time in obliging. You shakily started lowering to your knees, your back still facing him.

“And don’t even try to run.” He gripped the knife tighter, still at your throat, and circled in front of you so that you could now see him fully, the said knife never leaving your skin.

“Fuck me, sweetheart, if I didn’t have any self control I’d fuck you right now, with you looking like that.” You could practically see his cock bulging out of his pants from under his cloak.

He bent down to your height on the floor, and tilted your chin up using the tip of the blade so that you was staring into the black, soulless masked eyes. You wished you could see his expression, so that you could have some sense of what he planned to do next.

In one swift motion, he had cut open your top, and used his hands to rip apart your bra, summoning a surprised squeal from you as he did so with ease. He wasted no time in cutting the sides of your underwear as well, so that you were now completely bare in front of him, your nipples erect, and your swelling clit all on display.

“Fucking hell..” He groaned, his cock twitching uncomfortably in his pants at the sight of you completely exposed and on your knees.

“You know..” He reached out to grope one of your tits. “Ive seen you in trials before. Do you know how fucking hard it is to watch you with these tits and not being able to do shit about it?”

He massaged and gently pinched your nipples, his cock becoming so painfully hard. “You have no idea. And I bet you enjoy that, huh? You enjoy the fact you make me so hard that I need to palm myself every time I see you, imagining what your sweet little cunt would feel like around my cock, don’t you?” He slammed the knife’s blade through the floor between your legs, causing you to jump and gasp. The knife handle stuck upright, exactly how Ghostface wanted it.

You watched him rise to his feet and make quick work of his belt, undoing the buttons to his pants and finally releasing his cock with a relieved groan. You could see from your place on the floor his dick standing at attention, curving upwards slightly with pre-cum beading down his tip. He gave himself a few slow strokes before he broke your stunned silence. “Ride it.” He pointed to the knife handle.

Your eyes widened.

“W-what?”

“I said fucking ride it.”

Your eyes darted between the knife handle, and him, a horrified look plastered all over your face.

“I-I don’t think I can do that-“

Ghostface roughly grabbed your neck and lifted you slightly so that your pussy was lined up with the knife handle. “When I tell you to do something, you fucking do it. I don’t want to have to ask you to do things more than once anymore, or else that knife is going inside you in one of two ways - in your cunt, or in your stomach. Now, ride. It.” His voice was laced with irritation, and you didn’t want to test his patience.

You whimpered quietly to yourself, trying to ignore all the thoughts screaming at you to not do it - to get away, somehow, but you knew that your only chance of escape was giving him what he wants. Ghostface let go of your neck, and watched you realign yourself with the knife handle.

Your breath was shaky as you lowered yourself onto the knife, but those breaths were replaced with little whimpers as the relatively thin handle got buried deeper inside you. You could feel Ghostface’s eyes burning holes into your naked form, urging you to keep going till the whole handle was in you. You took your time, wanting to adjust to the foreign object’s texture before moving, finding that it didn’t feel as bad as you thought it would, and it’s thin size made it easy to get used to.

You started bouncing on the handle, small moans sounding from the back of your throat, which proceeded to make Ghostface start stroking his cock faster as he watched you. “Fuck, yeah, that’s it sweet girl..” He groaned, watching your body move to find a way to please itself on his very own knife. That, coupled with your whimpers and moans, could of made him fucking cum right then and there. “Yeah, yes, don’t stop, fuck..look at you, you precious little thing, fuck…you look so fucking good doing that. Don’t stop fucking yourself with my knife, shit..” He could barely form words between his grunts, his hand stroking his cock rapidly as your moans filled his ears.

You watched him knead his dick, the sight paired with his grunts and groans, his words, making your inhibitions decease into nothing, your pussy practically drooling at the interaction you was experiencing with this killer. You reached up to one of your tits and started massaging it, your eyes staring up at him to where his eyes would be and back down to his dick, deciding to not quieten your moans anymore. “Fuck baby, yeah, that’s so fucking hot.” He panted, feeling his cock twitch in his hands. “You’re such a good little slut, I didn’t even have to tell you to do that. Such a good fucking girl for me.”

He walked towards you and grabbed the hair on the back of your head. “I want your pretty little mouth round my cock, get it nice and wet for me.”

He pushed himself into your mouth, taking you off guard and causing you to choke on it. What he did not have in length he definitely made up for in width. He let out a prolonged groan as he felt the warmth of your mouth, almost spilling his cum down your throat in that instant. You wasted no time and moved your head up and down his length, using the tip of your tongue to lick the bottom of it as you did, pulling out more grunts and groans from Ghostface. “Oh fuck..” He moaned, looking down at your mouth wrapped around him, taking him all in and sucking him like an obedient whore should. You looked up at him as you bobbed your head up and down, using the hand that was not playing with your tits to massage his balls softly.

“Shit, yes, that feels so fucking good baby. Fucking hell..” His grip on your hair tightened as he stared into your lust filled eyes, half lidded and sparkling with little tears. His praise made you moan, sending little vibrations up his shaft while you continued to take him in and out your mouth, with your tongue swirling around it like it was a popsicle. There was dribble spilling out the sides of your mouth, and your face was red from the little air you was taking in through your nose. Seeeing you like this was edging him closer to his climax, his breaths between grunts and groans became shorter; he really wanted to cum down your fucking throat, but he was far from done with you. He pulled your mouth off of his cock, a string of saliva connected from your mouth to his shaft breaking half way.

You panted heavily, taking in the air you was neglected while going down on him. Ghostface was also panting heavily, his cock twitching and soaked, his desire for your cunt now more obvious than ever. He effortlessly lifted you up by your thighs, slamming you against a nearby wall that knocked the air out of your lungs. “I’m not waiting anymore, doll. I need to feel your pussy wrapped round my cock. Do you want that? Hm? Do you want my cock buried inside you, princess?” You nodded frantically, your pussy dripping wet with your legs spread wide open and wrapped around his waist.

His tip teased the entrance of your hole, circling it painfully slow. “Use your words.” He urged, watching your desperate face practically beg him to just fuck you. “Yes..! I do.” You respond, your pussy practically throbbing his name in morse code.

“Yeah? Is that right?”

“Y-yes, please!”

His tip finally penetrated your hole a bit, the warmth and tight sensation extracting a string of curses from his mouth. “So fucking tight..”

The little contact he was making with his tip was causing you to squeeze around him more, as if your body was trying to suck him into you desperately. Your chest was heaving with anticipation as your heart was ringing in your ears like church bells on a sunday morning.

He finally pushed his whole cock into you, his girth stretching you to his size and his hands squeezing your thighs so hard that little bruises were bound to appear, both of your moans now mixing together in a symphony as his cock buried inside you for the first time.

“So tight and wet for me, fucking christ..” He growled, your walls squeezing him despite his width stretching you out. He pulled out of you so that his tip was the only thing remaining, before roughly slamming right back into you, cursing and groaning while you mewled pathetically into his shoulder as his cock sent painful and pleasurable shockwaves throughout your body as you tried to adjust to his size. He gave you no time to, however, and his movements became rapid as he started fucking into you shamelessly with a new ferocity. Your moans became so loud you was sure the survivors back at the camp could hear you being pounded like the little slut you were. The curve in his dick was making his tip reach places you’d never felt in your life, which proceeded to make your moans increase in volume.

“Fuck…yeah…you feel so..god…you feel so fucking amazing sweet girl…yeah, let me hear those slutty sounds you make…mhmm, fuck..!” He managed to pant out as he drove his cock into you with new speeds, causing your cunt to tighten even more around his cock as your climax was approaching fast.

“Mmph, just when I thought you couldn’t get any tighter..” He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at his mask. Drool was all over your face and your eyes were welded shut into an expression of utter bliss. “I can feel you’re about to cum, aren’t you? I can feel you tightening around me..” He grunted between his erratic thrusts. You could only respond with loud moans, words now lost from your brain as he fucked you closer to your high.

“I want you to cum all over my cock, go on, fucking cum all over me, doll.” He said, still keeping a hold on your chin so he could watch your face. Your noises only became louder and louder as the pressure in your uterus grew faster each second, your arms squeezing his neck and holding onto dear life. “Mm, that’s it, good girl..” He purred, his thrusts unrelenting.

His encouragement finally made the pressure all release at once, that great fucking feeling of cumming on his dick extorting a mix of screams and moans as the intense wave of pleasure washed over your body. “Ohh, fuck yeah, baby, that’s it. Such a good girl.” Your pussy clenched tightly around him as you rode out your high, and he hissed as his movements became more sloppy and desperate to chase his own climax. You quickly became sensitive as he continued to pile drive into you, your moans turning into whimpers as you bared through the overstimulation.

“Mm…gonna cum, fuck..” He groaned, squeezing your thigh even tighter. He managed to fuck into you for a few more sloppy strokes before his warm cum spilled into your cunt in large quantities, a guttural groan escaping his lips as he slowly stroked into you a few more times as you milked him dry. You could feel him twitching as he finished his load deep inside you.

His fast breaths slowly evened out as he recovered, still having a strong hold on you with your weak legs wrapped around his waist. You were in worse shape; your legs were weak, you had dried juices at the corner of your mouth, drool on your chin…

“You really do look like a slut.” Ghostface chuckled darkly, finally pulling out of you so his cum could drip out of you slightly. You had no strength to argue, or respond, so you just allowed yourself to go limp in his strong hold. You heard him chuckle again, hooking his free arm under your legs to carry you properly.

You rested your head on his shoulder as you watched him take you further into the house, your legs swaying every time he took a step. You heard a distant sound get louder the more he carried you, which made your head perk up a bit as you realised that it was the sound of the hatch.

‘He’s actually giving it to me?’

You glanced up at Ghostface before he not-so-gently chucked you onto the hatch with a thump. With a grunt, you sat up on the cold metal of the hatch and suddenly became aware that you was still naked, cum dripping out of you and hair in disarray.

“Go on, go, let them survivors see how much of a slut their teammate is.” He laughed darkly. “Hopefully we get put into the same trial again very soon, sweet girl.” He murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before standing up straight and disappearing out of sight.

You held onto your chest with one arm and covered your pussy with the other before entering the hatch, finding difficulty to stand up straight. You could feel his cum sticking to your inner thighs and you could already see hatred and judgment of the other survivors when you got back.

But, you were past caring now. That felt too fucking good to care.

[starringthesturniolos]

bite me (part 3)- matt sturniolo

part 1, part 2, part 3

summary: matt hates your guts but all of that changes when he finds out your his mate.

contains: vampire!matt x reader, highschool au! (18 years old), smut (not in this part)

a/n: a short chapter but the next ones a biggie. love yall and thank you so much for the support

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when i wake up, i’m strapped to a bed frame. i struggle against the restraints but all that comes out of it is another dizzy spell.

“hey, your awake” i whip my head around to see two blue eyes staring back at me. fear shoots into my chest again, as i stare at matt’s brother, chris, in front of me. if matts not human, then i bet he’s not either.

“get away from me” my voice shakes and i gear my legs up to be ready to kick if necessary. “i know matt scared you pretty bad yesterday, but i promise, no ones going to hurt you here.” he comes and sits on the side of the bed, placing his hand on my knee gently

chris and i have only ever had one class together and it was in our sophomore year, but i always thought highly of him. he was nice and funny, unlike his brother. i may have even had a crush on him, if i had allowed myself to. the version of him i knew before, overides my fear of what he is and as he strokes my knee some of my fear goes away. but then all of a sudden, anger spikes within me that somehow doesn’t feel like my own. chris’ hand that was once comforting felt like a hot clothing iron on my skin. i wince and chris takes his hand off me immediately. instead, he looks towards the doorway apprehensively.

in the doorway, is none other than the matt sturniolo, and he looks furious.

fear and another feeling i can’t put my finger on fills me at the sight of him. i take a deep breath to try and calm myself down. at least he looks like he’s back to normal, no more red eyes and black veins.

“hey, she was freaking out, i was only trying to help. it’s not like that, i swear.” chris puts his arms up defending himself and trying to ease matts anger.

“whatever, get out” he snarls and i wince at the sound. chris scrambles out the room and matt marches up to me, sitting in the exact spot chris was moments before. unlike chris’ gentle touch, matt grabs my thigh roughly and possesively. even though the move was aggressive, when i feel his touch my body relaxes and my thighs clench together, hard. why is this turning me on and why did i stop panicking all of a sudden? his presence and touch should do nothing but scare me after everything he’s done. after everything i’ve seen.

“there you go” he coos darkly. “just relax, i have a lot of shit to tell you.” he says staring into my eyes intensely. the stare sends a heat surging through my body and i feel myself starting to get wet. if i could punch myself in the face i would. “get to it, make it quick.” i snip.

“have it your way then, i was gonna take it slow but i guess not.” he shrugs. “i’m a vampire and your my mate. thats why i went ape shit yesterday. thanks for listening to my ted talk.” he deadpans and cocks his head to the side.

even though it sounded like it was a joke, we both knew it wasn’t. my mind didn’t want to believe it, but my body knew it was true. matt is a vampire, and i am his mate.

“how? how am i your mate? whatever the fuck that is!” my voice raises in anger. did he pick me? maybe, to just to fuck around with me and tie me into all his weird vampire shit. did he really hate me that much?

“what, you think i know?!” he matches my angry tone before taking a breath, bringing his other hand up to rub his temple. “trust me, i have no idea sweetheart. if it were my choice, i’d have anyone but you. but for now, your stuck with me” he rolls his eyes. “and vice versa” he mutters.

his hand is still gripping my thigh and not a fiber of my being wants him to move it, even with all the arguing. and judging by the way he’s looking at me now, it looks like he’s stopping himself from doing more. i feel myself getting annoyed with myself for wanting him to do whatever he pleased and more.

“stop getting annoyed” he snaps. “its just the mating bond making us react to each other this way. nothing you can do about it” matt breathes in deeply and a shudder racks through him.

“what was that?” i ask weirded out by the almost animalistic behavior. “you just smell really good to me right now. i couldn’t help myself” he breathes out, eyes darkening slightly.

this man could really eat me alive if he wanted too. i shiver at the thought, but then my mind reels again. how did he know i was annoyed??.

“how did you know? that i was annoyed, i mean” you say bewildered by what being mated might entail. “now that you’re mine, i can feel your emotions almost like their my own. you can do it too, but humans aren’t as good at pin pointing it as we are.” he smirks like being a whole monster is something to be proud of and being human is childs play.

that would explain the random surge of anger earlier with chris. another wave of annoyance courses through me. he’s sooo possessive already. his words from yesterday rings through my head.

“because you’re mine.”

matts voice breaks through my silence. “but don’t worry this is all temporary” he smiles to himself. “i know a girl, and im pretty sure she can get rid of this” he gestures between the both of us. i can’t help the smile that rips through me at the good news.

“then what are we waiting for” i say impatiently.

@bbernard-03

@sturnthepot

@hoeformatt

@sturtriple16

@faygo-frog

@sturniol0s

@katie-tibo

@cindylcuwho

@mattslolita

[fatkish]

well hello there i just what to say i love the righting and 2 as u can see i suck at spelling so im sorry. and 3 i wish to know if u could do some mha angst like maybe like kiribaku x adhd reader where like bakugo dosen't mean tell reader to stop talking so fast or to like sit properly and stop moving there leg (i kinda want both cuz i get told that alot but u pick) but then kiri comes home and bakugos is sleeping on the couch and next day, kiri makes bakugo apologises and see how he was wrong. but its up to u. like reader could be overstimulated and cant stop moving. or sumth its up to u but thx for replying if u do don't feel like u need to tho byyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Kirishima x Bakugou x Reader Drabble

It was that time of year again. Exams were getting closer and you and Kirishima needed help studying for them. So you both asked your shared boyfriend Bakugou, to help you guys study. Due to your ADHD, you typically take you tests in a different room alone with one of the teachers, that’s because it’s easier for you to focus when there’s less possible distractions. Due to your constant fidgeting, the school has allowed for you to keep a small exercise cycle underneath your desk. This device is similar to an exercise bike with its pedals, but it’s smaller and made to be used when sitting. The cycle is considered a learning tool for you since it allows you to fidget while disturbing as little people as possible.

Sadly, you can’t bring it everywhere with you, if you could then that incident wouldn’t have happened. You and Kirishima had begged Bakugou to help you guys study, so you three went to a cafe. Of course, your Boyfriends knew of your ADHD and how it affected you. They knew that it could only be managed so much, it wasn’t something that could be completely controlled and that it’s something you struggle with. While Bakugou was trying to help you both study, you kept getting distracted by everything and you wouldn’t stop shaking your leg, causing the booth to vibrate.

As you would point out things that you saw that you noticed like someone’s hairstyle or a band t-shirt someone was wearing, Bakugou was starting to get fed up with your inability to focus. You were sitting next to him in the same booth and your constant leg shaking was vibrating the seat and it was driving him crazy. After 1 hour and 30 minutes of your constant interruptions and leg bouncing, Bakugou was at his wit’s end.

“Goddamnit you spacey fuck, can’t you concentrate for more than a couple fucking seconds?!?! And will you fucking quit bouncing your goddamn leg. It’s so fucking damn annoying!” The moment Bakugou registered what he just shouted at you, he realized how much he messed up. You looked at him with watery eyes before your face changed to one of anger.

“I’m leaving” you got up and left the cafe, leaving behind a sorrowful Kirishima and a sorry Bakugou. Bakugou knew he had messed up the moment the words left his mouth. Before Kirishima could say anything Bakugou spoke.

“I know, I know, I messed up and I need to apologize. Don’t worry, I will.”

Kirishima could only look at Bakugou in slight disappointment before he went back to studying.

The next day at school, Kirishima pulled Bakugou aside in the hall outside the classroom and demanded that he apologize to you. Bakugou knew he messed up and was already planning out how he was going to apologize. As they walked into the classroom, they saw you scribbling away in one of your doodle journals. Since most students weren’t in the classroom yet, Bakugou decided to apologize then and there. He walked over and grabbed the back of your shirt, dragging you into the hallway.

“Look, I’m sorry ‘bout what I said yesterday. I was just pissed and I took it out on you.” He mumbled just quite enough for you to hear.

“It’s okay, I know I forgot to bring a fidget and I’ve been trying to manage my symptoms better. I just have to work harder but I appreciate the apology”

“Yeah yeah just shut up” Bakugou muttered as he looked away with a slight blush on his cheeks.